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SONGS    Compleat, 

Pleasant  and  Divertive  ; 

SET    TO 

M  U  S  I  C  K 


By  Dr.  JOHN  BLOW,  Mr.  HENRY  PURCELL, 
and  other  Excellent  Masters  of  the  Town. 

Ending  with  some  ORATIONS,  made  and 
spoken  by  me  several  times  upon  the 
PUBLICK  STAGE  in  the  THEATER.  To 
gether  with  some  Copies  of  VERSES,  PRO 
LOGUES,  and  EPILOGUES,  as  well  for  my 
own  PLAYS  as  those  of  other  Poets,  being 
all  Humerous  and  Comical. 

Written  by  Mr.  D'URFEY. 
Omne  tulit  punctum  qui  miscuit  utile  dulci. 


L   O  N 

Printed  by  W.  Pearson,  for  J.  Tonson,  at 
SHAKESPEAR'S  Head,  against  Catherine 
Street  in  the  Strand,  1719. 


To  the  Right  Honourable  the 
Lords  and  Ladies,  and  also 
to  the  Honoured  Gentry  of 
both  kinds,  that  have  been  so 
Generous  to  be  Subscribers 
to  these  Volumes  of  SONGS  ; 
which  end  with  some  Ora 
tions,  Copy s  of  Verses,  Pro 
logues  and  Epilogues. 

My  Lords,  Ladies  and  Gentry, 

I  Once  thought  to  have  been  particular 
in  my  Dedication,  and  have  assign'd 
it  to  one  or  two  of  the   Nobility  or 
Gentry ;    but    considering   that    it    would 

lessen 


Dedication. 

lessen  the  Value  I  have  for  the  rest  of  my 
Noble  Subscribers,  I  have  desisted  in  that 
particular ;  and  hope  this  General  Address 
will  more  exert  my  Duty,  and  increase  your 
Favour. 

I  am  oblig'd  first  then  to  acknowledge 
my  Obligations  for  your  ready  and  willing 
Compliance  :  And  also  secondly  to  de 
clare,  that  to  oblige  ye,  and  compleat  your 
Diversion,  I  have  added  above  a  Hundred 
new  Pieces  to  the  Piiblick  Stock,  and  hope, 
as  the  rest  have  generally  had  Applause 
above  others  of  this  kind,  they  will  happily 
be  receiv'd  by  you  when  read  or  performed 
in  your  merry  and  vacant  Hours. 

I  have  (with  a  great  deal  of  Trouble 
and  Pains)  made  some  part  of  this  Collec 
tion,  and  render'd  ye  many  of  the  Old 
Pieces  which  were  thought  well  of  in  former 
Days,  and  consider'd  for  their  Pleasure 

and 


Dedication. 

and  Hardness  of  their  Composition ;  being 
written,  and  difficultly  made  apt,  and  proper 
to  wonderful  and  uncommon  Tunes,  which 
the  best  Masters  of  Musick  were  then 
famous  for :  And  I  must  presume  to  say, 
scarce  any  other  Man  could  have  performed 
the  like,  my  double  Genius  for  Poetry  and 
Musick  giving  me  still  that  Ability  which 
others  perhaps  might  want ;  nor  was  the 
Encouragement  inconsiderable  ;  for  as  well 
as  obliging  the  Nobility,  Gentry,  and  Com 
monalty,  I  had  the  Satisfaction  of  divert 
ing  Royalty  likewise  with  my  Lyrical 
Performances :  And  when  I  have  per- 
form'd  some  of  my  own  Things  before 
their  Majesties  King  CHARLES  the 
lid,  King  JAMES,  King  WILLIAM, 
Queen  MARY,  Queen  ANNE,  and 
Prince  GEORGE,  I  never  went  off  with 
out  happy  and  commendable  Approbation. 
The  Remembrance  of  my  Success  at  that 
time,  makes  me  hope  the  present  Affair, 
VOL.  i.  b  My 


Dedication. 

My  Noble  Lords,  Ladies  and  Gentry,  will 
add  to  your  Pleasure,  and  divert  your 
Hours,  when  your  Thoughts  are  unbended 
from  the  Times,  Troubles,  and  Fatigues  ; 
to  be  assur'd  of  which,  will  be  a  perpetual 
Satisfaction  to 

Your  most  Humble, 
Oblig'd,  and 

Devoted  Servant, 

T.  D'URFEY. 


AN 


AN 

Alphabetical    TABLE 

OF  THE 

SONGS   and    POEMS 

Contained  in  this 

BOO  K 


A  Page 

A  Tory,  a  Whigg,  and  a  moderate  Man,  8 

As  far  as  the  glittering  God  of  Day,  6 1 

Arise  my  Muse,  and  to  thy  tuneful  Lyre,  62 

As  the  Delian  God  tofam'd  Halcyon,  104 

All  the  World's  in  Strife  and  Hurry ,  no 

All  you  that  either  hear  or  read,  129 

Ah,  how  sweet  are  the  cooling  Breez,  138 

As  soon  as  the  Chaos,  145 

At  Winchester  was  a  Wedding,  276 

Ah!  Phillis  why  are  you  less  tender,  279 

And  in  each  Track  of  Glory  since,  285 

Amynta  one  Night  had  occasion  to  p 336 

B 

BRitains  now  let  Joys  increase,  26 

Behold,  behold  the  Man  that  with,  73 

Blow,  blow  Boreas  blow,  and  let  thy  96 

Behold 


An  Alphabetical  TABLE. 

Behold  how  all  the  Stars  give  way,  1 1 1 

Blowzabella  my  bouncing  Doxy,  194 

Bright  was  the  Morning,  cool  was,  261 

Beat  the  Drum,  beat,  beat  the,  269 


CHurch  Scruples  and  Jars  plunge  all,  87 

Come  all,  great,  small,  short,  tall,  91 

Celemene,  pray  tell  me,  109 

Celadon,  when  Spring  came  on,  1 79 

Come  Jug,  my  Hony,  lefs  to  bed,  293 

Chloe  found  Amyntas  lying,  329 

D 

DRaw,  draw  the  Curtain,  fye,  1 08 

Damon  turn  your  Eyes  to  me,  256 

Dear  Pinckaninny,  if  half  a  Guinea,  283 

Dtfl  take  the  War  that  hurry* d,  295 

F 

FRom  rosie  Bowers  where  sleeps  the  God,  I 

Fame  and  I  sis  joyrfd  in  one,  1 7 

From  glorious  Toy  Is  of  War,  50 

From  azure  Plains,  blest  with  eternal,  1 1 3 

Flow  the  flow*  ry  Rain,  122 

Far  ewe  I  the  Towns  ungrateful  Noise,  126 

Fame  loudly  thro1  Europe  passes,  146 

For  too  many  past  Years  with,  175 

Fill  every  Glass,  and  recommend  'em,  1 82 

From  Dunkirk  one  Night  they  stole,  225 

Fly,  fly  from  my  Sight,  fly  far  away,  236 

Fate  had  designed  this  worst  of  all,  243 

Fareweel  my  bonny,  bonny  witty,  252 

G 

Glovani  amanti  voi  chi  Sapete,  12 

Great  Lord  Frog  to  Lady  Mouse >,  14 

Grand  Lewis  let  Pride  be  abated,  78 

Great  Caesar  is  crowrid,  1 20 

Groves  and  Woods,  high  Rocks  and,  172 

Genius  of  England,  from  thy,  219 

Grand  Louis/a//jr  headlong  down,  223 

Great  Jove  once  made  Love  liket  280 

Hark 


An  Alphabetical  TABLE. 

H 

HArk,  Lewis  groans,  good  Fader,  244 

How  vile  are  the  sordid  Intrigues,  297 

Hark  the  thundring  Cannons  roar,  300 

Hark,  the  Cock  crow'd,  'tis  Day  all  abroad,  31 1 

I 


Oily  Roger  twangdillo  of,  19 

ild, 


J      In  Kent  so  f am' d  of  old,  45 

/  burn,  I  burn,  I  burn,  I  burn,  76 

Jug Jug Jug  Jug,  jug,  jug,  85 

In  old  Italian  Tales  we  read,  125 

In  Kent  /  hear  there  lately  did  dwell,  1 27 

If  you  will  love  me,  be  free  in  164 

/  hate  a  Fop  that  at  his  Glass,  177 

If  a  woful  sad  Ditty  to  know  thou,  203 

Jockey  was  a  dawdy  Lad,  289 

In  January  last,  on  Munnonday,  306 

Joy  to  the  Bridegroom,  323 

L 

LET  the  dreadful  Engines,  48 

Lord!  what's  come  to  my  Mother,  157 

Le  printems,  r'apelle  aux  Armes,  189 

Life's  short  Hours  too  fast  are  hasting,  221 

Lads  and  Lasses  blith  and  Gay,  305 

M 

MAiden  fresh  as  a  Rose,  57 

Mad  Loons  ^/"Albany,  149 

Monsieur  looks  pale,  161 

Madam  je  vous  prieyau  will  right  me,  201 

Monsieur  grown  too  mighty,  208 

Musing  of  late  on  Windsor,  232 

My  dear  Cock  adoodle,  308 

N 

NO  W,  now  comes  on  the  glorious,  27 

how  Cannon  smoke  Clouds  ally  59 

Now  over  England  Joy  to  express,  1 16 

Now  some  Years  are  gone,  118 

Near  famous  Covent-Garden,  143 

Now  is  the  Sun,  187 

One 


An  Alphabetical  TABLE, 
o 

ONE  Sunday  at  St.  James'j  Prayers,  10 

One  long  Whitson  Holiday,  39 

Old  Lewis  must  thy  frantick  Riot,  66 

One  April  Morn,  when  from  the  Sea,  69 

Oh  Love,  if  a  God  thou  wilt  be,  101 

Of  old,  when  Heroes  thought  it  base,  114 

Opening  Budds  began  to  shew,  121 

Of  all  noble  Sports,  1 50 

One  Morn  as  lately  Musing,  153 

Oh  Jenny,  Jenny,   where  hast  thou  been,  169 

Of  all  the  simple  things  we  do,  250 

Of  all  the  World's  Enjoyments,  269 

On  the  Brow  of  Richmond  Hill,  303 


\Ray,  now  John  let  Jug  prevail,  141 

Pastorella  inspire  the  Morning,  195 


Q 


Q 

UE  chacun  remplisse  son  verrej  180 


R 

Ride  all  England  o'er,  123 

Raptures  attending  Dwellers  divine,  241 

Remember  ye  Whigs  what  was  formerly,  248 

Rise  bonny  Kate,  313 

Royal  and  fair,  3 1 5 
S 

O  Ing  mighty  Marlborough'j  Story,  40 

v^     Since  Times  are  so  bad,  I  must  tell,  88 

Sleep,  sleep,  poor  Youth,  151 

Sing,  sing  all  ye  Muses,  1 58 

Spring  invites,  the  Troops  are  going,  189 

Sound  Fame  thy  golden  Trumpet,  sound,  196 

Since  long  o'er  the  Town,  197 

Since  now  the  World's  turned  upside  down,  213 

Snug  of  late  the  Barons  sate,  226 

Says  Roger  to  Will,  both  our  Teams,  231 

Sylvander  royal  by  his  Birth,  234 

Sawney  was  tall,  and  of  noble  Race,  317 

The 


An  Alphabetical  TABLE, 


Glorious  Day  is  come,  70 

The  old  Wife  she  sent  to  the,  186 

The  Valiant  Eugene  to  Vienna,  206 

The  infant  blooming  Spring  appears,  220 

To  shew  Tunbridge  Wells,  221 

'Twas  early  one  Morning  the  Cock,  229 

'Then  welcome  from  Vigo,  253 

Twanty  Years  and  mear  at  Edinborough,  254 

The  Clock  had  struck,  faith  I  cannot,  262 

}Twas  when  the  Sheep  were  shearing,  319 

The  Sun  had  loos' d  his  weary  Team,  321 

The  Night  her  blackest  Sable  wore,  324 

'Twas  within  a  Fitrlong  of,  327 

To  Horse  brave  Boys  of  New-Market,  333 


V 


V 
Ictumnus  Flora,  you  that  bless,  72 


W 

WHere  Oxen  do  low,  4 

Welfare  Trumpets,  Drums  and,  22 

When  Love  fair  Psyche  made,  43 

What  Beauty  do  I  see,  46 

Woe  is  me,  what  mun  I  do,  54 

What  are  these  Ideots  doing,  81 

Within  an  Arbor  of  Delight,  98 

We  Prophets  of  the  Modern  Race,  106 

Would  you  have  a  Young  Virgin,  134 

When  Innocence  and  Beauty  meet,  1 36 

Well  may'st  thou  prate  with,  159 

When  Phoebus  does  rise,  167 

We  London  Valets  all  are  Creatures,  173 

When  the  Spring  in  Glory,  183 

Who  in  Old  Sodom  would  live,  210 

Whilst  favoured  Bishops  new  Sleeves,  258 

Whilst  wretched  Fools  sneak  up,  272 

Where  divine  Gloriana  her  Palace,  299 

When  Phillida  with  Jockey  play>d,  331 

When  first  Amyntas  stfdfor  a  Kiss,  335 

YE 


An  Alphabetical  TABLE. 


YE  Beaus  of  Pleasure,  1 2 

Ye  Jacks  of  the  Town,  28 

Ye  Peers  that  in  State,  32 

Ye  Britons  aw  that,  36 

You  love,  and  yet  when  I  ask  you,  165 

You  Nymphs  and  Sylvian  Gods,  238 

Young  Philander  woo'd  me  long,  266 

Young  Collin,  cleaving  of  a  Beam,  291 


POEMS. 

A  Mongst  all  Characters  divine,  35 6 

£\.    As  in  Intrigues  of  Love  we  find  it,  354 

As  when  some  mighty  Monarch,  345 

As  when  repentant  Israel  once  distrest,  346 

As  when  Hiperion  with  victorious  357 

Brave  is  that  Poet  that  dares  draw,  35 1 

Come  Spouse,  to  talk  in  Mode  now,  353 

If  this  strange  Vice  in  all  good,  342 

In  this  wise  Town  two  Games  precedence,  337 

In  hopes  the  coming  Scenes  your,  34^ 

In  sweet  Retirement,  freed  from,  359 

'Mongst  our  Forefathers,  that  pure,  350 

When  the  New  World  all  Laws,  339 


SONGS 


SONGS   Compleat, 

Pleasant  and  Divertive,  &c. 


A  Mad  SONG. 

By  a  Lady  distracted  with  LOVE.  Sung  in 
one  of  my  Comedies  of  Don  QUIXOTE  : 
The  Notes  to  it  done  by  the  late  famous 
Mr.  HENRY  PURCELL  ;  which,  by  reason 
of  their  great  Length,  are  not  Printed 
in  this  Book,  but  may  be  foitnd  at  the 
Musick  Booksellers  singly,  or  in  his  Or 
pheus  Brittannicus  ;  performing  in  the 
Tune  all  the  Degrees  of  Madness. 

{Sullenly  Mad.] 

*  Rom   rosie    Bowers,    where    sleeps    the 

God  of  Love, 

*  Hither,  ye    little   waiting   Cupids,  fly, 

.$-     Hither,  ye  little  waiting  Cupids,  fly. 

Teach  me  in  soft  melodious  Strains,  to  move 
In  tender  Passion  my  Heart's  darling  Joy. 
Ah,  let  the  Soul  of  Musick  tune  my  Voice, 
To  win  dear  Strephon,  who  my  soul  enjoys. 

VOL.  i.  B  Mirth, 


2  SONGS  Compleat, 

\_Mirthfully  Mad.     A  Swift  Movement^ 

Or  if  more  influencing, 

Is  to  be  Brisk  and  Airy ; 
With  a  Step  and  a  Bound, 
And  a  Frisk  from  the  Ground, 

I'll  trip  like  any  Fairy. 
As  once  an  Ida  dancing 

Were  three  Coelestial  Bodies, 
With  an  Air,  and  a  Face, 
And  a  Shape,  and  a  Grace, 

I'll  charm,  like  Beauties  Goddess, 
With  an  Air,  &c. 

\Melancholly  Madness] 

Ah,  'tis  in  vain,  'tis  all,  'tis  all  in  vain  ; 

Death  and  Despair  must  end  the  fatal  Pain  : 

Cold,  cold  Despair,  disguis'd  like  Snow  and  Rain, 

Falls  on  my  Breast,  bleak  Winds  in  Tempests  blow, 

My  Veins  all  shiver,  and  my  Fingers  glow  ; 

My  Pulse  beats  a  dead  March,  for  lost  Repose, 

And  to  a  solid  lump  of  Ice  my  poor  fond  Heart  is  froze. 

[Fantastically  Mad] 

Or,  say  ye  Powers,  my  Peace  to  crown, 
Shall  I  thaw  my  self,  and  drown 

Amongst  the  foaming  Billows  ; 
Increasing,  all  with  Tears  I  shed 

On  Beds  of  Ooze,  and  Chrystal  Pillows. 
Lay  down,  lay  down  my  lovesick  Head. 
Say,  say,  ye  Powers,  my  Peace  to  crown, 
Shall  I,  shall  I  thaw  myself,  and  drown  ? 

[Stark  Mad.] 

No,  no,  no,  no,  I'll  straight  run  mad, 

Mad,  mad,  mad,  mad,  that  soon  my  Heart  will  warm ; 
Whene'er  the  Sense  is  fled,  is  fled, 

Love  has  no  Power,  no  Power  to  charm. 

Wild 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 

Wild,  thro'  the  Woods  I'll  fly,  I'll  fly, 
Robes,  Locks  —  shall  thus  —  be  tore  ; 

A  thousand,  thousand  Deaths  I'll  Dye, 

E'er  thus,  thus,  in  vain  —  e'er  thus  in  vain  adore. 


Country  Dialogue.    Set  by  Mr. 
DANIEL  PURCELL. 

He. 


She. 


He. 


He. 


She. 


B    2 


SONGS  Compleat, 


He. 


She. 


He    T  T  7  Here  Oxen  do  Low, 

V  V    And  Apples  do  grow, 
Where  Corn  is  sown, 
And  Grass  is  mown  ; 
Where  Pigeons  do  fly, 
And  Rooks  Nestle  high  ; 
Fae  give  me  for  Life  a  Place  : 
She    Where  Hay  is  well  Cock'd, 
And  Udders  are  Strok'd  ! 
Where  Duck  and  Drake, 
Cry  quack,  quack,  quack  j 
Where  Turkeys  lay  eggs, 
And  Sows  suckle  Pigs, 
Oh  !  there  I  would  pass  my  Days. 
He    On  nought  we  will  feed, 
She    But  what  we  do  breed ; 
And  wear  on  our  backs, 
He    The  wool  of  our  flocks 


She 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  5 

She    And  tho'  Linnen  feel 

Rough,  Spun  from  the  wheel, 
'Tis  cleanly  tho'  course  it  comes. 
He    Town  follies  and  Cullies, 

And  Molleys  and  Dolleys, 

For  ever  adieu,  and  for  ever ; 
She    And  Beaus  that  in  Boxes 

Lie  smuggling  their  Doxies, 

With  Wigs  that  hang  down  to  their  Bums. 

He    Good  b'uye  to  the  Mall, 

The  Park  and  Canal ; 

St.  James's  Square, 

And  Flaunters  there : 

The  Gaming  house  too, 

Where  high  Dice  and  low, 
Are  manag'd  by  all  degrees  : 
She    Adieu  to  the  Knight, 

Was  bubled  last  Night, 

That  keeps  a  Blowz, 

And  beats  his  spouse ; 

And  now  in  great  haste, 

To  pay  what  he's  lost, 
Sends  home  to  cut  down  his  Trees : 
He    And  well  fare  the  Lad, 
She    Improves  e'ry  Clad, 
He    That  ne'er  set  his  hand, 

To  Bill  or  to  Bond. 
She    Nor  barters  his  Flocks, 

For  Wine  or  the  Pox, 
To  chouse  him  of  half  his  Days : 
He    But  Fishing  and  Fowling, 

And  Hunting  and  Bowling, 

His  Pastime  is  ever,  and  ever ; 
S/ie    Whose  Lips  when  you  buss  'em, 

Smell  like  the  Bean-blossom, 

Oh,  he  'tis  shall  have  my  praise  ! 


He 


SONGS  Compleat, 

He    To  Tavern  where  goes, 

Sow'r  Apples  and  Sloes, 

A  long  adieu  ! 

And  farewel  too, 

The  House  of  the  Great, 

Whose  Cook  has  no  Meat, 
And  Butler  can't  quench  my  Thirst 
She    Good  b'uye  to  the  Change, 

Where  Rantepoles  range ; 

Farewel  cold  Tea, 

And  Rattafee, 

Hide-Park  too,  where  Pride 

In  Coaches  do  ride, 
Altho'  they  be  choak'd  with  Dust. 
He     Farewel  the  Law-Gown, 
She    The  plague  of  the  Town, 
He    And  Foes  of  the  Crown, 

That  should  be  run  down, 
She    With  City-jack-daws  • 

That  make  Staple  Laws, 
To  Measure  by  Yards  and  Ells. 
He    Stock-jobbers  and  Swobbers, 

And  Packers  and  Tackers, 

For  ever  adieu,  and  for  ever ; 

CHORUS. 

We  know  what  you're  doing, 
And  home  we're  both  going, 
And  so  you  may  ring  the  Bells. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  7 

The  Moderate  MAN. 

To  a  pretty  Tune.     By  the  famous  Signior 
Corelli. 


3^ji"pj;^= 


'=± 


SONGS  Compleat, 


s^^p1  '  ' 


A  Tory,  a  Whig,  and  a  Moderate  Man, 
O'er  a  Tub  of  strong  Ale 
Met,  in  Ailesbury  Vale, 

Where  there  liv'd  a  plump  Lass  they  call'd  buxom  Nan  : 
The  Tory  a  Londoner  proud  and  high, 
The  Whig  was  a  Tradesman  plaguy  sly  ; 
The  Trimmer  a  Farmer,  but  merry  and  dry, 

And  thus  they  their  Suit  began  : 
Pretty  Nancy  we're  come  to  put  in  our  Claim, 
Resolv'd  upon  Wedlocks  pleasing  Game ; 
Here's  Jacob  the  Big, 
And  William  the  Whig, 
And  Roger  the  Grigg, 

Jolly 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  9 

Jolly  Lads,  as  e'er  were  buckled  in  Girdle  fast ; 
Say  which  you  will  chuse, 
To  tye  with  a  Noose, 
For  a  Wife  we  must  carry  what  e'er  comes  on't, 

Then  think  upon't, 

You'll  never  be  sorry  when  y'have  don't, 
Nor  like  us  the  worse  for  our  Wooing  so  blunt, 
Then  tell  us  who  pleases  best. 

The  Lass  -who  was  not  of  the  motion  shy, 

The  ripe  Years  of  her  Life 

Being  Twenty  and  Five  : 

To  the  Words  of  her  Lover  straight  made  reply, 
I  find  you  believe  me  a  Girl  worth  Gold, 
And  I  know  too  you  like  my  Coppy-hold ; 
And  since  Fortune  favours  the  brisk  and  the  bold, 

One  of  ye  1  mean  to  try. 

But  I  am  not  for  you  nor  £ 'j  Cause, 

Nor  you  with  your  H y's  Hums  and  Hawes  \ 

No  Jacob  the  Bigg, 

Nor  William  the  Whigg, 

But  Roger  the  Grigg, 
With  his  Mirth  and  mildness  happily  please  me  can  ; 

'Tis  him  I  will  choose, 

For  th'  Conjugal  Noose  \ 
So  that  you  the  Church  Bully  may  rave  and  rant, 

And  you  may  Cant, 
'Till  both  are  Impeacht  in  Parliament ; 
'Tis  Union  and  Peace  that  the  Nation  does  want, 

So  I'm  for  the  Moderate  Man. 


The 


10 


SONGS  C&mpleat, 


The  Saint  at  St.  James's  ChappeL 
A  New  SONG. 


ONe  Sunday  at  St.  James's  Prayers, 
The  Prince  and  Princess  by, 
I  dress'd  with  all  my  Whalebone  Airs, 

Sate  in  the  Closet  nigh. 
I  bent  my  Knees,  I  held  my  Book, 

I  read  the  Answers  o'er, 
But  was  perverted  by  a  Look, 
That  pierc'd  me  from  the  Door. 


High 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


ii 


High  thoughts  of  Heaven  I  came  to  use, 

And  blest  Devotion  there, 
Which  gay  young  Strephon  made  me  loose, 

And  othei  Raptures  share. 
He  watch'd  to  lead  me  to  my  Chair, 

And  bow'd  with  courtly  grace, 
But  whisper'd  Love  into  my  Ear, 

Too  warm  for  that  grave  place. 

Love,  Love,  cry'd  he,  by  all  Ador'd, 

My  fervent  Heart  has  won  ; 
But  I  grown  peevish  at  that  Word, 

Desir'd  he  would  be  gone  : 
He  went,  whilst  I,  that  lookt  his  way, 

A  kinder  Answer  meant, 
And  did  for  all  my  sins  that  day, 

Not  half  so  much  repent. 


A  New  SONG.    Translated  from  the  Italian. 


c  ^ 

I^-*--     ->H 


Cant. 


12  SONGS  Compleat, 

Cant.  Italian. 


IOVANI  amanti  voi  chi  Sapete, 

L'Arte  secreti  (fun  crudo  Amor; 
In  Cortesia  scoltato  un  puoro^ 

E  Ardente  fuoco  chi  marde  il  Cor. 

Egia  tre  mesi  eft  una  sitella, 

Le  giadra  Bella  ch'ogni  lo  sa  ; 

Quel  sua  bel  chilio  cosci  Gallante, 

Mi  fed  amanti  di  sua  bella. 


In  English. 

YE  Beaus  of  Pleasure, 
Whose  Wit  at  Leasure, 
Can  Count  Loves  Treasure, 

It's  Joy  and  Smart ; 
At  my  desire, 
With  me  retire, 
To  know  what  fire, 

Consumes  my  Heart : 
At  my  desire, 
With  me  retire, 
To  know  what  fire, 

Consumes  my  Heart. 

Three  Moons  that  hasted, 
Are  hardly  wasted, 
Since  I  was  blasted, 

With  Beauty's  Ray : 
Aurora  shows  ye, 
No  Face  so  Rosie, 
No  July's  Posie, 
So  fresh  and  gay, 

Aurora,  &c. 

Her 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  1 3 

Her  Skin  by  Nature, 
No  Ermin  better, 
Tho'  that  fine  Creature, 

Is  white  as  Snow ; 
With  blooming  Graces, 
Adorn'd  her  Face  is, 
Her  flowing  Tresses, 

As  black  as  Sloe. 
With,  &c. 

She's  Tall  and  Slender, 
She's  Soft  and  Tender, 
Some  God  commend  her, 

My  Wit's  too  low  : 
'Twere  Joyful  plunder, 
To  bring  her  under, 
She's  all  a  wonder, 

From  Top  to  Toe. 
'Twere  joyful,  &c. 

Then  cease,  ye  Sages, 
To  quote  dull  Pages, 
That  in  all  Ages, 

Our  Minds  are  free  : 
Tho'  great  your  Skill  is, 
So  strong  the  Will  is, 
My  Love  for  Phillis, 

Must  ever  be. 
Tho'  great,  &c. 


+*+*+ 

HK 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  Ditty  on  a  high  Amour  at  St.  James's. 
Set  to  a  Comical  Tune. 


iztifc: 


Tt 


GReat  Lord  Frog  to  Lady  Mouse, 
Croakledom  hee  Croakledom  ho ; 
Dwelling  near  St.  James's  house, 

Cocky  mi  Chari  she ; 
Rode  to  make  his  Court  one  day, 
In  the  merry  Month  of  May, 
When  the  Sun  Shon  bright  and  gay, 
Twiddle  come  Tweedle  twee. 


Lord 


Pkasant  and  Divertive.  1 5 

Lord  Frog. 

Countess,  y'have  three  Daughters  fine, 
Croakledom  hee  Croakledom  ho  ; 
I'd  fain  make  the  youngest  mine, 

Cocky  mi  Chari  she  : 
I'm  well  made  as  ever  was  Male, 
Only  bating  one  simple  aile ; 
Pox  upon't,  I've  never  a  Taile, 

Twiddle  come  Tweedle  twee. 

Lady  Mouse. 

Welcome  Noble  Peer  to  Town, 
Croakledom  hee  Croakledom  ho  ; 
I'll  strait  call  my  darling  down, 

Cocky  mi  Cari  she  : 
So  much  wealth  will  sure  prevail, 
Yet  I  wish  that  you  might  not  fail ; 
Your  fine  Lordship  had  a  Tail, 

Twiddle  come  Tweedle  twee. 

Lord  Frog. 

Here  She  comes  shall  be  my  Spouse, 
Croakledom  hee  Croakledom  ho  ; 
If  she'll  design  to  grace  my  house, 

Cocky  mi  Cari  she  ; 
I've  a  head  where  Love  can  plant ; 
Tho'  a  trifling  Tail  I  want ; 
Will  you  fair  one  liking  grant, 

Twiddle  come  Tweedle  twee. 

Miss  Mouse. 

I  can  ne'er  to  one  consent, 
Croakledom  hee  Croakledom  ho  ; 
Wants  that  needful  ornament, 

Cocky  my  Cari  me  : 
Uncle  Rat  too  so  well  known, 
That  a  swinger  has  on's  own  ; 
Ne'er  will  let  me  wed  to  none, 

Twiddle  come  Tweedle  twee. 

Lord 


1 6  SONGS  Compleat. 

Lord  Frog. 

Sing  I  can't,  my  Voice  is  low 
Croakledom  hee  Croakledom  ho  ; 
But  for  Dancing  dare  Santlow, 

Cocky  mi  Chari  she  : 
Than  altho'  my  Bum  be  bare, 
All  must  own  'tis  smooth  and  fair ; 
I've  no  Scars  of  Venus  there, 

Twiddle  come  Tweedle  twee. 

Miss  Mouse. 

When  we  treat  you  at  our  Cheese, 
Croakledom  hee  Croakledom  ho  ; 
All  that  naked  part  one  sees, 

Cocky  mi  Chari  me  : 
Cover'd  close  we  creep  and  crawl, 
When  you  swim  or  diving  fall : 
Fy  for  shame,  you  shew  us  all, 

Twiddle  come  Tweedle  twee. 

Lord  Frog. 

Since  y'are  on  these  lofty  strains, 
Croakledom  hee  Croakledom  ho  ; 
I'll  get  one  shall  value  brains, 
Cocky  mi  Chari  she : 

Miss  Mouse. 

Now  your  Lordship  idle  prates, 
Those  that  will  have  constant  mates, 
Must  have  Tails  as  well  as  Pates, 
Twiddle  come  Tweedle  twee. 


OCEAN'S 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  17 


OCEAN'S  GLORY: 

Or,  A  Parley  of  the  Rivers.     A  Royal 
ODE  or  CANTATA  ;  made  in  Honour  of 
King  GEORGE'S  Coronation.     Set  to  Mu 
stek  by  Dr.  PEPUSCH,  after  the   Italian 
manner. 

\Recitative^\ 

EAme  and  Isis  joyn'd  in  one, 
Flowing  with  Cenubial  Pride, 
by  fam'd  Augusta  ran  -, 
Posting  to  the  Ocean  they 
To  great  Neptune  seem'd  to  pray 
To  send  in  the  happy  Tide. 

Haughty  grown,  they  seem'd  to  slight 
Ancient  ffumber,  Sabrine  fair, 
Boasting,  now  they  were  to  bear 

Such  a  blest,  and  glorious  Weight, 
As  never  prest  their  Waves  before  : 
And  thus  their  Joy  resounded  to  the  Shore. 


Let  your  Streams  be  clearly  waving, 
GEORGE  is  come,  Great  Britain  saving  ; 

Dance,  ye  Fish,  both  great  and  small  ; 
Pretty  Birds  in  Groves  be  singing, 
Active  Deer  in  Lawns  be  springing  ; 

Joyn  in  Pleasure  with  us  all. 

\Recitativ  e^\ 

Humber  renown'd,  and  bright  Sabrine  reply'd, 
The  Ocean  sends  the  Loyal  Tide, 

And  Fate  does  you  the  greatest  Honour  shew  : 
VOL.  i.  c  We'll 


1 8  SONGS  Compleat, 

We'll  make  our  firm  Allegiance  good, 
With  you,  or  any  other  Flood, 

To  shame  the  Parties  High  and  Low  : 
Unite  large  Rivers  with  each  strugling  Spring, 
And  shew  great  GEORGE  the  way  to  make 

a  Glorious  King. 

[Aire.] 

Plants  and  Flowers,  the  Sweets  of  Nature, 
Cheering  now  each  mortal  Creature, 

Blest  with  bright  Apollo's  Beams  ; 
Spring  and  Summer  fair  and  lasting, 
All  forget  the  Winter's  blasting, 

Mounts  of  Snow,  and  frozen  Streams. 


<$> 


TWANG- 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


TWANGDILLO. 

A  New  Ballad.  The  Words  made  to  the 
Tune  of  a  pretty  Country  Dance,  called 
the  Hobby-horse. 


JOlly  Roger  Twangdillo  of  Plouden  Hill, 
In  his  Chest  had  two  thousand  good  Pounds, 
Fat  Oxen  and  Sheep,  and  a  Barn  well  fill'd, 
And  a  hundred  good  Acres  of  Ground  ; 
Which  made  ev'ry  Maiden  with  Maiden-heads  laden, 

And  Widows,  tho'  just  set  free, 
To  wrangle  and  fret,  and  pump  up  their  Wit, 

To  train  to  the  Net,  Twangdillow,  Twangdillo, 
Twangdillo,     Twangdillo,    young     lusty    Twangdillo, 
Twangdee. 

c  2  The 


2O  SONGS  Compleat, 

The  first  that  brake  Ice  was  a  Lass  had  been 

Born  of  a  good  House,  but  decay'd ; 
Her  Gown  was  new  Dy'd,  and  her  Night-trail  clean, 
And  to  sing  and  talk  French  had  been  breed ; 
She'd  dance  Northern  Nancy, 
Ask'd  Parler  vous  Fransay, 
That  Hodge  might  her  breeding  see, 
She'd  rowl  her  black  Eye, 
Breath  short  with  a  sigh, 
When  e'er  she  came  nigh  Twangdtilo,  Twang,  &c. 

The  next  was  a  Sempstress  of  Stature  Low, 

That  fancy'd  she  wanted  a  Male, 
Her  Hair  as  black  as  an  Autumn  Sloe, 
And  hard  as  a  Coach-horses  Tail : 
She'd  Oagle  and  Wheedle, 
And  prick  with  her  Needle ; 
What  d'  lack,  what  d'  buy,  cry'd  she  ? 
But  now  the  brisk  Tone, 
Is  chang'd  to  a  Groan, 
Ah  !  pity  my  moan,  Twangdillo,  Twang,  &c. 

A  musty  old  Chamber-maid  lean  and  tall, 

The  next  as  a  Suitor  appears, 
With  a  Tongue  loud  and  shrill,  but  no  Teeth  at  all, 
For  time  had  drawn  them  many  Years : 
Cast  Gowns  and  such  Lumber, 
Old  Smocks  without  number, 
She  bragg'd  should  her  Dowry  be, 
Forty  pair  of  Lac'd  Shoes, 
Ribbons  Green,  Red  and  Blews, 
But  all  would  not  Noose  Twangdillo,  Twang,  &c. 

The  next  was  a  Lass  of  a  Popish  strain, 
That  Jesuite  Whims  had  been  taught, 

She   bragg'd   they  shou'd   soon    have   King  J .$• 

again, 

Tho'  her  Spouse  was  late  hang'd  for  the  Plot ; 
The  French  would  come  over, 
And  land  here  at  Dover , 

And 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  2 1 

And  all  as  they  wish'd,  would  be  ; 

The  Jacobite  Jade, 
...    Talk'd  as  if  she  was  mad, 
In  hopes  to  have  had  Twangdillo,  Twang,  &c. 

A  Vintner's  fat  Widow  then  straight  was  view'd, 

Whose  Cuckold  had  pick'd  up  some  Pelf : 
He  had  kill'd   half  his  Neighbours  with  Wine  he'd 

brew'd, 

And  lately  had  Poyson'd  himself. 
With  Bumpers  of  Claret, 
No  Souse  paying  for  it, 
She'd  J? over's  Companion  be  ; 
Strike  Fist  on  the  Board, 
Huzza  was  the  Word, 
Come  Kiss  me  ador'd  Twangdillo,  Twang,  &c. 

But  Roger  resolv'd  not  to  be  her  Man, 

And  so  gave  a  loose  to  the  next, 
The  Niece  of  a  Canting  Bleer-Ey'd  Non  Con, 
That  stifly  could  canvass  a  Text. 
A  Dame  in  Cheapside  too, 
Would  fain  be  his  Bride  too, 
And  make  him  of  London  free  ; 
.    But  no  Lass  wou'd  down 

In  Country  or  Town, 
So  purse-proud  was  grown,  Twangdillo,  Twang,  &c. 

Till  at  last  pretty  Nancy,  a  Farmer's  Joy, 

That  newly  a  Milking  had  been, 
Round-fac'd,  Cherry-cheek'd,  with -a  smirking  Eye, 
Came  tripping  it  over  the  Green  : 
She  mov'd  like  a  Goddess, 
And  in  her  lac'd  Bodice, 
A  Span  she  could  hardly  be  ; 
Her  Hips  were  plump  grown, 
And  her  Hair  a  dark  Brown  ; 

'Twas  she  that  brought  down  Twangdillo,  Twangdillo, 
Twangdillo,   Twangdillo,   young  lusty   Twangdillo, 
Twangdce. 

A 


22 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  DIALOGUE  in  the  Opera  for  Mr. 
Leveridge  and  Mr.  Edwards  ;  represent 
ing  two  Country  Boors  arguing  about 
the  War. 


Coridon. 


"\1  7  Elfare  Trumpets  Drums  and  bailing  too,  Colin  lay, 


lay  down  thy  Spade,  and  ne  -  ver  more  fol  -  low 


Adam's  old  Trade;  But  come  on  to  the  War,  where 


Swords  and  Guns  are  ratling,  now,  whilst    we 


9 — m — 


March  with  Hoboys  merrily ;  free  Hunters  of  Honour, 


Thour't  slave  to  the  Pride  of  some  Boar  of  a  Man-nor; 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


Colin. 


Well,  what  then,  much  better   is  brown  Bread  and 


Water,' with  Bacon  that's  Rusty,  and  Beef,  tho'  'tis 


B» 


? 


damnable    Musty,  in  course  wooden  Platters,and 


cook'd  up  by   our  country  Sluts ;  than  Slashes  and 


Bruises,  and  Holes  made  byJ^uzees;  or  feeding  on 


Fame,  when  I'm  Cripl'd  and  Lame, or  sent  packing 


with    a  broad  Sword  thro' my  Guts,  Z — ns,  with 


24  SONGS  Compleat, 


a  broad  Sword  thro'   my       Guts. 


Coridon. 

Dull  Fool  rail  no  more  at  Cavaleering, 
What  a  damn'd  Scandal  it  is, 
To  sneak  here  at  home, 
Grow  mouldy  with  peace, 
When  loud  Fame  calls  thee  out ; 
'Where  bold  Dragoons  are  Domineering, 
Thou'lt  see  fortune  ready  to  befriend  thee, 
If  thou  art  wounded, 
For  Honour  and  Valour, 
Preferment's  propounded. 

Colin. 

I  fear  my  Commission, 

Will  prove  but  a  Vision, 

For  when  I  am  posted, 
On  Mines,  where  I'm  like  to  be  roasted, 
Tis  forty  to  one  but  I'm  puff  d  from  .my  future 
Command, 

Or  if  with  much  Toyling, 

I  chance  to  scape  Broyling, 

A  damn'd  bit  of  Lead, 

Drills  me  quite  thro-'  the  Head, 
How  the  Devil  then  shall  I  kiss  the  King's  Hand, 
Zoons,  how  shall  I  kiss  the  King's  Hand. 

To  the  Second  Part  of  the  Tune. 
:  Coridon. 

From  Bullets  and  Fire, 
Tho'  oft  we  retire, 

Our 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  2  5 

Our  wishes  we  Crown, 

When  we  enter  a  Town 
That  is  Rich,  where  the  Lasses  are  kind, 
And  the  Plunder's  refreshing  and  Cool. 

Colin. 

But  what  if  foul  weather 
Won't  let  us  come  thither, 
The  Trench  full  of  Water, 
Then  is  it  not  better, 
Lye  safe  at  home,  and  our  Plowjobbers  rule. 

Coridon. 
Gad  zooks  you're  a  Cowardly  Fool. 


A  New  SONG.  On  the  happy  Accession  to 
the  Crown,  and  coming  in  of  our  Gracious 
Sovereign,  King  GEORGE. 


26  SONGS  Compleat, 


T)  Ritains  now  let  Joys  increase, 
fj   Revel  all  in  happy  days, 
Royal  George  has  crost  the  Seas, 

Ye  Natives  homage  tender  ; 
Fate  to  save  us  made  him  hast, 
Britains  Genius  doubly  Blest, 
And  renown'd  as  was  e'er  in  Ages  past, 
The  Saint  our  Isles  defender. 

Halcyon  Peace  that  all  must  grant, 
Has  been  so  long  the  Nations  want, 
Glorious  and  brave  some  people  vaunt, 

Has  lately  fill'd  our  story ; 
But  kind  Stars  so  well  provide, 
And  this  grand  truth  will  soon  be  try'd, 
For  a  Monarch  is  Reigning  that  will  decide 
What  is  for  Britains  glory. 

By  our  late  most  Zealous  Aid 
The  French  a  lucky  game  have  play'd, 
'Tis  now  high  time  to  help  our  Trade, 
And  mend  our  bad  condition ; 
You  the  scoundrels  charm'd  with  hope, 
To  gain  by  Mounsieur,  or  the  Pope, 
At  this  Juncture  much  sooner  may  find  a  Rope, 
Reward  for  vile  Ambition. 

Gentle  winds  have  swell'd  his  Sails, 
Blest  the  King  with  happy  gales, 
And  the  darling  Prince  of  Wales, 

Our  second  Faiths  defender  ; 

Now 


Pleasant  and,  Diver  live.  2  7 

Now  let  jarring  discords  cease, 

Now  we're  sure  of  lasting  Peace, 

Since  the  Right  must  set  all  our  minds  at  ease, 

And  baulk  the  false  Pretender. 


A  SONG.  Design  d  to  be  Sung  between  the 
Acts  in  the  Modern  Prophets.  To  the 
foregoing  Tune. 

"V  T  Ow,  now  comes  on,  the  Glorious  Year, 
J^     Britain  has  hope,  and  France  has  fear ; 
Lewis  the  War  has  cost  so  dear, 

He  slyly  Peace  does  tender : 
But  our  two  Heroes  so  well  know 
The  breach  of  his  Word  some  years  ago, 
They  resolve,  they  will  give  him  another  blow, 
Unless  he  Spain  Surrenders. 

Health  to  the  Queen  then  straight  begin, 
To  Marlborough  the  great,  and  to  brave  Eugene 
With  them  let  Valiant  Webb  come  in, 
Who  late  perform'd  a  wonder  : 
Then  to  the  Ocean  an  offering  make, 
And  boldly  Carouze  to  brave  Sir  John  Leak; 
Who  with  Mortar  and  Cannon  Mahon  did  take, 
And  made  the  Pope  knock  under. 

Beat  up  the  Drum  a  new  Alarm, 

The  foe  is  cold,  and  we  are  warm  ; 

The  Mounsieur's  Troops  can  do  no  harm, 

Tho'  they  abound  in  Numbers  : 
Push  then  once  more  and  the  War  is  done, 
Old  Men  and  Boys  will  surely  run  ; 
And  we  know  we  can  beat  'em  if  four  to  one ; 
Which  he  too  well  remembers. 

The 


28 


SONGS  Gompleat) 


The  FART  ; 

Famous  for  its  Satyrical  Humour  in  the 
Reign  of  Queen  ANNE. 


YE  Jacks  of  the  Town, 
And  Whiggs  of  renown, 
Leave  off  your  Jarrs  and  Spleen, 
And  hast  to  your  Arms 
All  thronging  in  swarms 
Be  ready  to  guard  the  Queen  ; 

With  a  hum,  hum,  hum,  hum. 

For  last  LORD'S-day, 

at  St.  James's  they  say, 
A  strange  odd  thing  did  chance, 

Which  put  into  the  News, 

All  Holland  would  amuse, 
But  would  make  'em  rejoyce  in  France; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 


Each  Commoner  and  Peer, 

Of  both  Houses  were  there, 


And 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  29 

And  folks  of  each  rank  and  Station, 
Had  thither  free  recourse, 
From  the  Keeper  of  the  Purse, 

To  the  Mayor  of  a  Corporation  ; 
With  a  hum,  &c. 


When  at  Noon  as  in  State 

The  Queen  was  at  Meat, 
And  the  Princely  Dane  sat  by  Her, 

A  Fart  there  was  hear'd, 

That  the  Company  scar'd, 
As  a  Gun  at  their  Ears  had  been  fir'd ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

Which  Irreverent  Sound 

Made  'em  stare  all  around, 
And  in  each  Countenance  lower, 

Whilst  judgment  thereupon 

Said,  it  needs  must  be  done,  • 
As  afronting  the  Soveraign  pow'r ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

The  Chaplain  in  place 

Had  but  just  said  Grace, 
And  then  cringing  behind  withdrawn, 

When  they  call'd  back, 

To  examine  if  the  Crack, 
Came  from  him  or  the  Lords  in  Lawn, 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

For  just  by  the  Chair, 

Some  fat  Bishops  were  there, 
Whom  the  Whigg  boys  fain  would  bespatter, 
Who  with  a  Sober  look, 
Declar'd  upon  the  Book, 
That  the  Clergy  knew  nought  of  the  matter  ; 
Of  the  hum,  &c. 

But 


30  SONGS  Compleat, 

But  they  would  not  swear, 

For  the  Parties  were  there, 
Of  the  High  Church  and  the  Low, 

Who  from  a  mighty  Zeal, 

For  good  o'  th'  commonweal 
Might  let  some  of  their  Bagpipes  blow  ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

At  this  when  heard, 

Late  Comptroler  strokt  his  Beard, 
And  declar'd  with  an  Antique  bow, 

He  tho'  of  some  nothing  knew, 

Yet  he  would  vouch  for  two, 
Himself,  and  his  Brother  John  How  ; 

for  the  hum,  &c. 

For  the  Squire  was  well  bred, 

And  his  Key  might  have  had, 
But  refus'd  for  an  old  State  Trick, 

And  that  he  that  had  made  Sport, 

With  Places  of  the  Court, 
Now  resolv'd  upon  Whartoris  white  stick  ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

When  this  was  done, 

And  the  Crime  not  yet  known, 
Came  a  Law  Peer  to  plead  the  Case, 

How  they  had  no  intent, 

To  affront  the  Government 
Nor  had  he  to  regain  the  Mace ; 

With  &  hum,  &c. 

A  Garter  and  Star, 

Next  censure  did  bear, 
Who  for  all  he  lookt  so  high, 

And  carry'd  it  so  great, 

In  Intrigues  of  the  State, 
Yet  might  condescend  to  let  fly 

A  hum,  &c. 

But 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  3 1 

But  he,  in  a  heat, 

Said  the  thing  in  debate, 
Impos'd  on  Each  sex  might  be, 

And  would  have  made  it  clear, 

That  some  Dutchesses  there, 
Were  as  likely  to  do't  as  he ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

The  Colour  then  rose, 

'Mongst  the  noble  Furbelows, 
Of  Honour,  and  most  too,  Wives, 

Who  declar'd  upon  their  rep, 

They  ne'er  made  such  a  'scape, 
Nor  e'er  did  such  a  thing  in  their  lives 

As  a  hum,  &c. 

But  the  Gigling  rout, 

That  were  waiting  round  about, 
'Twas  likely  were  heedless  Jades, 

So  that  saving  their  own  fame 

They  agreed  upon  the  sham, 
To  have  turn'd  it  upon  the  poor  Maids  ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

Who  all  drown'd  in  Tears, 

Charg'd  the  Ladys  there  in  years, 
To  tell  truth  if  that  hideous  rore, 

So  Thunder-like  sent, 

From  Audacious  Fundament, 
Could  consist  with  their  Virgin  bore ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

Who  answering  no, 

All  disputes  fell  too, 
For  now  they  believ'd  it  was  reason, 

To  pass  the  matter  of, 

As  a  Joke,  and  in  a  Laugh, 
Since  they  ne'er  could  make  it  High  Treason ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

So 


32  SONGS  Compleat, 

So  that  turning  the  Jest, 

They  agreed  it  at  last, 
That  nought  from  the  Presence  did  come, 

But  the  noise  that  they  heard, 

Was  some  Yeoman  o'  the  Guard, 
That  brought  Dishes  into  the  next  Room ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

But  the  truth  of  the  sound 

Not  at  all  could  be  found, 

Since  none  but  the  doer  could  tell, 
So  that  hushing  up  the  Shame, 
The  Beef-eater  bore  the  blame, 

And  the  Queen,  God  be  prais'd,  din'd  well 
With  a  hum,  hum,  hum,  hum. 


The  Second  Part  of  the  FART  ; 

Or  the  Beef-eaters  Appeal  to  Mr.  Z>'URFEY. 
[To  the  same  Tune.] 

YE  Peers  that  in  State, 
Now  with  Commons  are  met, 
To  right  both  the  Weak  and  the  Strong, 
Prepare  to  redress 
A  poor  Beef-eater's  Case, 
Who  has  had  a  most  damnable  wrong ; 
By  a  hum,  &c. 

Strange  Jarring  I  know, 

'Twixt  the  High- Church  and  Low, 
Does  your  dear  valu'd  hours  ingross, 

Yet  mine  is  such  a  case, 

That  I  beg  it  may  take  place, 
As  soon  as  the  Speaker  is  chose, 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

For 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  33 

For  tho'  I'm  no  Lord, 

Nor  to  Senate  preferr'd, 
Yet  my  Priviledge  I'll  maintain, 

And  as  free-born  of  the  Land, 

You  my  wrong  shall  understand, 
Which  I  here  will  undaunted  explain  ; 

Of  a  hum,  &c. 

The  Fart  you  late  keard, 

Laid  to  one  of  the  Guard, 
That  of  late  did  the  Court  Surprise, 

'Tis  prov'd  was  not  his, 

As  Informers  did  guess. 
But  a  Females  of  his  Jolly  size ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

The  thing  came  out  thus, 

Near  to  Buckingham  House, 
And  the  Motto  all  Fancies  excelling, 

Near  the  Ancient  Pall-mall, 

The  Park,  and  Canal, 
Two  Buxom  young  Ladies  were  dwelling ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

Related  so  near, 

It  does  plainly  appear, 
That  they  both  from  one  Bottom  did  come, 

The  one  thin  and  lean, 

As  a  Garden  French  Bean, 
And  the  tother  as  round  as  a  Drum ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

The  Elder  when  dress'd, 

And  her  Belly  straight  lac'd, 
If  she  stoop'd  from  behind  must  Roar, 
The  Younger  as  frail, 
If  she  laugh'd  at  any  Tale, 
Could  not  keep  in  the  Juices  before ; 

With  a  whisse,  hum,  &c. 
VOL.  i.  D  Strange 


34  SONGS  Compleat, 

Strange  quarrels  had  past, 

'Twixt  the  first  and  the  last, 
And  many  Tongue  combats  had  been, 

For  the  Youngest  well  knew, 

'Twas  her  Sister  that  Blew, 
The  late  Blast  as  she  stood  by  the  Queen; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

But  letting  that  go, 

Since  Winds  pass  too  and  fro, 
As  Fate  soon  the  Case  made  plain, 

By  a  Visit  they  made, 

To  a  haughty  Court  Jade, 
Who  a  Page  had  to  hold  up  her  Train ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

Who  when  at  her  Gate, 

She  the  Sisters  had  met, 
Bowing  low  with  her  back-bone  crump, 

As  she  gave  a  Salute, 

Tother  stooping  to  do't, 
Gave  a  proof  she  was  loose  in  her  Rump ; 

By  a  hum,  &c. 

Which  unfortunate  noise, 

Made  her  Sister  rejoyce, 
And  as  nothing  more  pleasing  could  come, 

With  a  laugh  screw'd  so  high, 

She  was  ready  to  die, 
As  she  follow'd  her  into  the  Room  j 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

But  oh,  dismal  lot, 

Her  own  Case  she  forgot, 
For  just  as  a  filly  Foal  pisses, 

When  she  romping  does  pass, 

O'er  the  gay  springing  grass, 
So  the  Room  was  Embroyder'd  with  S  S. 

And  a  whisse,  hum,  &c. 

The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  35 

The  Dame  of  the  House, 

That  perceiv'd  this  abuse, 
From  Passion  could  not  refrain, 

As  knowing  what  was  dropp'd, 

Could  not  easily  be  mopp'd, 
Being  mixt  with  a  Stercus  humain  > 

And  a  hum,  &c. 

And  strongly  perfum'd, 

To  Inform  her  presum'd, 
How  the  Nymphs  in  the  days  of  Yore, 

Who  were  cleanly  inclin'd, 

Us'd  a  Cork  for  behind, 
And  a  Spung  for  the  Cranny  before  ; 

With  a  whisse,  &c. 

Come  Ractcliff,  come  Hans, 

From  the  Vine,  or  from  Manns, 
Come  Morley,  to  mend  this  matter, 

And  if  these  prove  vain, 

Come  Occult  Chamberlain, 
Deep  learn'd  in  the  Secrets  of  Nature  ; 

And  a  hum,  &c. 

Come  Blackmore,  come  Mead, 

Come  Sir  William  Read, 
Of  late  by  the  Soveraign  grac'd, 

And  peeping  in  their  Tails, 

Quickly  cure  these  Sisters  ails, 
Some  five  Inches  under  the  wast, 

Of  a  whisse,  hum,  &c. 

And  the  Secret  to  trace, 

Manage  both  private  ways, 
Tho'  I  mean  not  the  ways  of  a  Sinner, 

That  she  who  does  Trump, 

Through  defect  in  her  rump, 
Never  more  may  Perfume  the  Q ns  dinner  ; 

With  a  hum,  &c. 

D  2  And 


36  SONGS  Compleat, 

And  she  that  is  found, 

To  be  Juicy  and  sound, 
And  each  Night  fills  her  two  white  Pots, 

May  no  more  by  a  gush, 

That  has  oft  made  her  blush, 
Deck  the  Room  with  her  true  Lovers  knots ; 

And  a  Whisse  hum,  whisse  hum. 


The  NORTHERN  Resenter. 

A  SONG,  made  to  a  Scotch  Tune  call'd 
Robin  the  Highlander. 


—  — hi h-t 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


37 


-ff-j-r-F= 


YE  Brittons  aw, 
Who  are  moulding  the  Law, 
For  your  use  as  occasion  is  fitting ; 

What  a  Deel  did  you  gain, 

By  late  muckle  pain, 
When  our  Peers  were  outvoted  from  Sitting 

Woons,  dant  we  know, 

That  a  few  Years  ago, 
Ere  ye  twin'd  the  Rose  with  the  Thistle ; 

Yead  a  gin  any  Flower, 

That  ye  had  in  your  pow'r, 
Tho'  we  now  are  scarce  worth  a  Whistle. 

Gud  feth  we  see, 

Like  a  Lass  that  too  free, 
Has  bin  bob'd  of  her  Maidenly  treasure ; 

That  instead  of  regard, 

For  a  bargain  so  hard, 
You  think  you  may  Slight  us  at  pleasure  : 

But  woons,  take  heed, 

Say  our  Loons  near  the  Tweed, 
For  if  no  brave  Calkdonian  ; 

Made  a  Lord  by  the  Queen, 

Mayn't  do  like  the  Sixteen, 
Deel  awa  with  the  rest  of  the  U n. 


The 


38 


SONGS  Compleat, 


Z1^  Parson  among  the  Peas. 


SONG. 
* ^ 


g     _p      ..^.    -_^-A 0 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  39 


ONe  long  Whitson  Holliday, 
Holliday,  Holliday,  'twas  a  Jolly  day ; 
Young  Ralph,  Buxom  Phillida,  Phillida,  a  welladay, 

Met  in  the  Peas  : 
They  long  had  community, 
He  lov'd  her,  she  lov'd  him. 
Joyful  Unity,  nought  but  Opportunity, 

scanting  was  wanting  their  bosoms  to  Ease  : 
But  now  Fortunes  Cruelty,  Cruelty, 
You  will  see,  for  as  they  lye, 
In  close  Hugg,  Sir  Domine  Gemini,  Gomini, 

chanc'd  to  come  by ; 
He  read  Prayers  i'  th'  Family, 
No  way  now  to  frame  a  Lie, 
They  scar'd  at  old  Homily,  Homily,  Homily, 

both  away  fly. 

Home,  soon  as  he  saw  the  Sight,  full  of  Spight, 

As  a  Kite  runs  the  Recubite, 

Like  a  noisy  Hypocrite,  Hypocrite,  Hypocrite, 

mischief  to  say ; 

Save  he,  wou'd  fair  Phillida,  Phillida,  Phillida : 
Brest  that  Holy  day, 
But  poor  Ralph,  Ah  welladay,  welladay,  welladay, 

turn'd  was  away, 

Ads  niggs  crys  Sir  Domini,  Gemini,  Gomini, 
Shall  a  Rogue  stay, 
To  baulk  me  as  commonly,  commonly,  commonly, 

has  been  his  way, 
No  I  serve  the  Family, 
They  no  nought  to  blame  me  by, 
I'll  read  Prayers  and  Homily,  Homily,  Homily, 

three  times  a  day. 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  New  HEALTH  to  the  Duke  of  Marl- 
borough,  with  three  Glasses  ;  ending  with 
a  Stanza  in  Honour  of  the  Prince  of 
Hanover,  and  Prince  Eugene;  made  on 
the  occasion  of  the  late  Glorious  Victory 
at  Audenard. 


EibJ^dirET-- + 


Sing  mighty  Marltorough 's  Story, 
Mars  of  the  Field, 
He  passes  the  Schdd; 
And  to  increase  his  Glory, 
The  French  all  fly  or  yield  : 

Vendosme 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  41 

Vendosme  drew  out  to  spite  him, 

Th'  Houshold  Troops  to  fright  him, 

Princes  o'  th'  Blood, 

Got  off  as  they  cou'd, 

But  ne'er  durst  return  to  Fight  him. 

This  is  the  year  of  Wonders, 
The  Gen  d'arms  Gor'd, 
With  Bullet  and  Sword, 
Quake  when  the  General  Thunders  : 
Almanza  was  the  Word ; 
Sound  the  Trumpet  Sound  Boys, 
Take  the  first  This  to  his  Health  be  crown'd  Boys, 
Glass       Circle  his  Brows 

With  fresh  Oaken  boughs, 

And  thus  let  the  Glass  go  round  Boys. 

Take  the  2nd  Now  we  made  a  Motion, 

Glass  and  put  Eugene  the  Brave 

into  the  first.    A  Second  shall  have, 

And  could  we  tope  an  Ocean, 
His  due  we  hardly  give  : 
Still  there's  one  more  must  be  Boys, 
Hannover  makes  'em  up  three  Boys, 
Three  in  a  hand, 

Drink  the  $rd  I'll  drink  to  my  Friend, 

Glass.       And  so  let  us  all  agree  Boys. 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  New  SONG  in  Honour  of  the  Glorious 
Assembly  at  Court^  on  the  Queens  Birth- 
day  ;  made  to  a  pretty  Scotch  T^lne. 


-=>*. _ — _ — 0 — i & — pi — 


WHEN 


w 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  43 

Hen  Love  fair  Psyche  made  his  Choice, 

Jove  sent  Mercury  from  the  Skies  ; 
To  summon  all  the  Deities, 
To  a  Divine  Collation  : 
Sol  with  sweet  Aurora  came, 
Vulcan  with  his  charming  Dame, 
And  Iris  put  on  a  Robe  of  Flame, 

Streakt  with  a  fresh  Carnation  : 
Juno  had  a  Mantle  full  of  Moons  and  Stars, 
And  Venus  had  a  Trophy  Go\vn  a  present  made  by 

Mars, 

Embroyder'd  o'er  with  Swords  and  Guns  and  Imple 
ments  of  Wars, 

With  Triumphs  of  many  a  Nation. 


Yet  tho'  adorn'd  in  their  bright  Aray, 

Shining  Glorious,  fresh  and  Gay, 

'Twas  a  trifle  all  to  Queen  Anns  Birth-day, 

Should  they  compare  in  Splender  : 
Every  Duke  and  Dutchess  here, 
Sham'd  each  God  and  Goddess  there, 
Nor  could  their  Joy  with  ours  compare, 

Shewn  to  our  Faiths  Defender  : 
The  States-man  that  talks  on  the  Wool-sack  big, 
Could  bustle  to  the  Opera,  as  merry  as  a  Grig, 
To  Oagle  there  a  Tory  tall,  or  a  pretty  little  Whig, 
Defying  the  Pretender. 


The  great  Eugene,  whose  renown  does  soar, 
Well  deserving  the  *  Sword  he  wore, 
Were  Diamonds  valu'd  at  ten  times  more, 

Thought  he  beheld  a  wonder ; 
Senates  Jars  he  late  has  seen, 


*  A  Sword  presented  him  by  the  Queen  of  great  Value. 

High 


44 


SONGS  Compleat, 


High  and  Low  exalt  their  Spleen, 
But  here  in  Reverence  to  the  Queen, 

Both  sides  truckle  under  : 
Joy,  from  this  Minute  shall  each  hour  increase, 
And  Europe  find  the  Benefit  of  Honourable  Peace, 
And  he  like  Jove  the  dire  effect  of  bloody  War  must 
cease, 

And  lay  aside  his  Thunder. 


CONJUGAL  LOVE. 

Made  on  a  Man  of  Quality  and  his  Lady, 
to  an  Air  in  Pyrrhus. 


-a— N-ap—       — »— |  — p-=-f— f—  =f-f-- 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


45 


JN  Kent  so  fam'd  of  Old, 
Close  by  the  famous  Knott, 
Swain  a  Goddess  told, 

An  Am'rous  story  : 
In  Kent  so  fam'd  of  Old, 
Close  by  the  famous  Knoll, 
A  Swain  a  Goddess  told, 

An  Am'rous  story  : 
Cry'd  he,  these  Jarring  Days, 
When  Kings  contend  for  Bays, 
Your  Love  my  Soul  does  raise, 

Beyond  their  Glory  ; 
Cry'd  he  these  Jarring  Days, 
When  Kings  contend  for  Bays, 
Cry'd  he  these  Jarring  Days, 
When  Kings  contend  for  Bays, 
Your  Love  my  Soul,  &c. 

My  Life  my  Lovely  dear, 
Whil'st  you  are  Smiling  here, 
The  Plants  and  Flow'rs  appear, 

More  Sweetly  charming  : 
The  Sun  may  cease  to  Shine, 
And  may  his  pow'r  resign, 
Your  Eyes  give  rays  Divine, 

All  nature  warming : 


The 


46  SONGS  Compleat, 

The  Sun  may  cease  to  Shine, 
And  may  his  pow'r  resign, 
The  Sun  may  cease  to  Shine, 
And  may  his  pow'r  resign, 
Your  eyes  give,  &c. 


She  made  a  kind  return, 

That  nothing  had  of  scorn, 

This  Youth,  thought  I,  does  burn, 

To  bring  her  under  : 
But  as  they  homeward  mov'd, 
And  walk'd,  and  talk'd  and  Lov'd, 
I  found  his  Spouse  she  prov'd, 

That  was  his  wonder ; 
But  as  they  homeward  mov'd, 
And  walk'd,  and  talk'd,  and  Lov'd, 
But  as  they  homeward  mov'd, 
And  walk'd,  and  talk'd,  and  Lov'd, 
I  found  his  Sfiouse,  &c. 


A  Dialogue  in  the  Comedy  of  the  Bath,  or 
the  Western  Lass  :  Sung  by  Mr.  Burdon 
and  Mrs.  Lucas.  The  Tune  by  Mr. 
Akeroyde. 

He.  \  T  7  Hat  Beauty  do  I  see, 

\\     That  Heart  and  Soul  commands, 
Sweet  Madam,  honour  me, 
with  leave  to  kiss  your  Hand. 

She 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  47 

She.  Oh  good,  a  Man,  I  swear ! 

and  begs  my  Hand  to  kiss, 
Methinks  I'm  pleas'd  to  hear 
he  does  not  call  me  Miss. 

He.  Your  Eyes,  sweet  Lady  shine  so  bright, 
And  I'm  so  wounded  at  first  Sight, 
My  Heart  does  throb, 
I  sigh  and  sob. 

And  am  like  one  just  slain, 
Unless  you  Pity  show, 

And  Life  restore  again. 

She.  Nay,  pray  Sir,  good  Sir  go, 
I  know  not  what  you  mean. 
You  may  talk  of  a  Wound 
By  my  Eyes  you  have  found ; 
But  I  cannot  believe 
Any  Hurt  they  can  give  : 
For  I  look  in  your  Face, 
And  it  is  as  it  was, 

And  your  Body  is  sound  and  whole. 

He.  Loves  Wounds  are  all  within, 

whose  Pangs  the  Breast  controuls, 
Like  Lightning  pass  the  Skin, 
and  blast  the  very  Soul. 

She.  Why  sure,  this  Love,  this  dreadful  Word, 
Is  then  some  sharp  and  pointed  Sword : 
Or  is't  a  Snake,  Or  is't  a  Bird, 
That  will  pick  out  my  Eyes. 

He.  Go  with  me,  you'll  perceive 

in  Love  a  Treasure  lies, 
She.  I'll  ask  my  Mother  leave, 

and  follow  in  a  Trice. 

He 


48  SONGS  Compleat, 

He.  No,  no,  no  not  a  Word, 
I  can  better  afford 
You  the  Love,  if  you'll  go 
Where  your  Mother  don't  know ; 
For  if  she  should  be  crost, 
All  the  Treasure  is  lost, 

And  I  conjure  for  Love  in  vain ; 
The  Circle  you  embrace 

Is  where  it  must  be  done. 
She.  Oh  Lard,  the  Devil  you'll  raise, 
But  catch  me  if  you  can. 


Let  the  dreadful  Engines.    In  Or  ph.  Britt. 
A  SONG.  Set  by  Mr.  Henry  Purcell. 

T     ET  the  dreadful  Engines  of  eternal  Will, 

J j     The  Thunder  roar,  and  crooked  Lightning  kill, 

My  Rage  is  hot,  is  hot,  is  hot  as  theirs,  as  fatal  to, 
And  dares  as  horrid,  and  dares  as  horrid,  horrid 

Execution  do. 

Or  let  the  frozen  North  its  Rancour  show, 
Within  my  Breast  far,  far  greater  Tempests  grow, 
Despair's  more  cold,  more  cold  than  all  the 
Winds  can  blow : 

Can  nothing,  can  nothing  warm  me, 

Can  nothing,  can  nothing  warm  me, 

yes,  yes,  yes,  yes  Luanda's  Eyes, 
yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  Lutindds  Eyes ; 
yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  yes  Lucindds  Eyes, 
there,  there,  there,  there,  there  Etna, 
there,  there,  there,  there,  there  Vessuvio  lies, 

To  furnish  Hell  with  Flames,  that  mounting, 
Mounting  reach  the  Skies. 

Can 


Pleasant  and  Diver 'live.        '      49 

Can  nothing,  can  nothing  warm  me, 

Can  nothing,  can  nothing  warm  me, 

yes,  yes,  yes,  yes  Luanda's  Eyes, 

yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  yes  Luanda's  Eyes, 

yes,  yes,  yes,  yes,  yes  Luanda's  Eyes. 

Ye  Pow'rs,  I  did  but  use  her  Name, 

And  see  how  all  the  Meteors  flame  ; 

Blue  Lightning  flashes  round  the  Court  of  Sol, 

And  now  the  Globe  more  fiercely  burns, 

Than  once  at  Phaetons  Fall. 

Ah,  ah,  where,  where  are  now, 
Where  are  now  those  flow'ry  Groves, 
Where  Zephirs  fragrant  Winds  did  play ; 
Ah,  where  are  now,  where  are  now, 
Where  are  now  those  flow'ry  Groves, 
Where  Zephirs  fragrant  Winds  did  play, 
Where  guarded  by  a  Troop  of  Loves, 
The  fair,  the  fair  Lucinda  sleeping  lay, 
There  sung  the  Nightingale  and  Lark, 
Around  us  all  was  sweet  and  Gay, 
We  ne'er  grew  sad  'till  it  grew  dark, 
Nor  nothing  fear'd  but  shortning  Day. 

I  glow,  I  glow,  I  glow,  but  'tis  with  hate, 

Why  must  I  burn,  why  must  I  burn, 

Why  must  I  burn  for  this  ingrate, 

Why,  why  must  I  burn  for  this  ingrate ; 

Cool,  cool  it  then,  cool  it  then,  and  rail, 

Since  nothing,  nothing  will  prevail, 

When  a  Woman  Love  pretends, 

'Tis  but  till  she  gains  her  Ends, 

And  for  better  and  for  worse, 

Is  for  Marrow  of  the  Purse, 

Where  she  jilts  you  o'er  and  o'er, 

Proves  a  Slattern  or  a  Whore, 

This  Hour  will  tease,  will  tease  and  vex, 

And  will  cuckold  you  the  next ; 

VOL.  i.  E  They 


50  SONGS  Compleat, 

They  were  all  contriv'd  in  Spight, 

To  torment  us,  not  delight, 

But  to  scold,  to  scold,  to  scratch  and  bite, 

And  not  one  of  them  proves  right, 

But  all,  all  are  Witches  by  this  Light, 

And  so  I  fairly  bid  'em  and  the  World  good  night, 

Good  night,  good  night,  good  night, 

Good  night,  good  night. 


A  New  Ode,  or  Dialogue,  between  Mars  the 
God  of  War  and  Plutus,  or  Mammon 
God  of  Riches  ;  made  for  the  Entertain 
ment  of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  MARL- 
BOROUGH,  and  General  Officers,  by  the 
Right  Honourable  Sir  Robert  Beding- 
field,  then  Lord- May  or,  and  the  Honour 
able  the  Court  of  Aldermen  in  the  City : 
Set  to  Musick  by  Mr.  Weldon,  and 
performed  by  Mr.  Elford  and  Mr. 
Leveridge,  Decemb.  — ,  1706. 


Mars.    |7  Rom  Glorious  Toyls  of  War, 

With  dazling  Banners  brought  from  far, 

Behold,  behold. 

First  Thou  potent  God  of  Gold, 

Movement  My  Hero  by  the  Warriours  follow'd,  comes ; 

with  Prepare  a  Royal  Feast 

Violins.  To  treat  the  Noble  Guest ; 

Thy  gorgeous  Purse  unty, 
Let  shining  Medals  fly, 
To  give  'em  joyful  Welcome  to  their  Homes. 

If 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  5 1 

If  Mammon  e'er  unlocks  the  Store,  Mammon. 

And  deals  to  mortal  Hands  the  sacred  Ore, 

The  Soul  of  all  things  here  below  \ 

That  baffles  Crowns,  26.  Move 

And  raises  Towns,  ment. 

The  Will  controuls,  and  makes  a  Friend  a 
Foe. 

He  first  must  know  for  what  he  pays, 
Since  for  Desert  alone  he  turns  the  Keys ; 
Let   Merit   then    inspire   each   Voice    and 

Tongue, 

Prepare  to  hear,  for  charming  is  the  Song,        Mars. 
Prepare  to  hear,  &><;. 

\_Here  both  sing  the  two  last  Lines.] 

The  Power  of  Gallia  shaken,  Mars. 

Ramillies  Trophies  taken, 

Proud  Flanders  too  subjected,  3d  Move- 

And  Belgian  States  protected,  ment  with 

With  daily  Wonders  still  more  strange  and  Trumpets. 

great, 
Too  high  for  Praise,  too  numerous  to  repeat. 

As  Noble  Merit  claims  Regard,  Mammon. 

To  prove  I  always  am  prepar'd ; 
Remember  the  renown'd  Eugene  ; 

I  do,  Mars. 

How  speedy  Bounty  did  your  Wish  pursue,  Mammon. 
And  golden  Seraphs  to  his  Succour  flew, 
That  sav'd  the  sinking  Cause ; 

I  do,  I  do,  Mars. 

All  this  ador'd,  Divinity  is  true. 

Beyond  the  Alpine  Mounts  cf  Snow,      Mammon. 

Far  as  the  Banks  of  ancient  Po, 
The  Cordial  Coyn  was  sent,  O  happy  Chance, 
To  heal  their  fainting  Troops,  and  send  a 

Plague  to  France; 

E  2  Mars. 


52  SONGS  Compleat, 

Mars.  Blest  be  the  happy  Hour  the    News   was 

brought, 
Mammon.'Blest  be  the  Great  Eugene  that  bravely  fought, 

Mars.  The  happy  Hour, 

Mammon.  The  Great  Eugene, 

Mars.  The  happy  Hour, 

Mammon.  The  Great  Eugene; 

Blest  be  the  happy  Hour,  &c. 
\Both  sing  the  two  last  Lines  ^ 
Mammon  Now  Sons  of  Art,  ye  tuneful  Muses  call, 
and      And  sing  the  Gallick  Tyrant's  Fall, 
Mars    In  soaring  Alts  his  Grand  Ambition  shew, 
together.  Then  let  your  Bases  sink  him  down  as  low  : 
In  Consort  next  Celestial  Voices  raise, 
And    be    the    Chorus    still,    our    God-like 

Generals  Praise ; 
In  Consort  next,  &><;. 

\Here 's  a   General  Chorus  of  Voices  and 
Instruments.  ] 

Mars.  By  him,  to  my  Prophetick  Soul  appears 

A  lasting  Joy,  that  crowns  succeeding  Years, 
The  valiant,  the  successful  Deeds 
Of  him,  and  the  Renown'd  he  leads 
Will  be  eterniz'd,  to  the  utmost  Shore, 
Afammon.Then  to  regale  the  Chiefs,  take  all  my  Store, 
All,  all  my  Wealth,  is  a  Reward  too  poor. 

Another  Sweet  Peace  like  Paradice  is  blooming, 
Movement 'And  Halcyon  Days  in  Prospect  coming ; 
with    The  rural  Swains,  with  War  affrighted, 
Flutes  With  rosie  Nymphs  shall  sing  delighted ; 

And  whilst  their  harmless  Flocks  are  bleating, 
Soft  Tales  of  Love  be  still  repeating. 

Mars.  But  first  bring  Gallia  down, 

Mammon.  And  fix  the  Spanish  Crown  : 

Mars.  From  Bourbon  keep  the  Swede, 

Mammon.  Drive  Philip  from  Madrid: 

Mars. 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


53 


Let  Scotland  banish  Spleen,  Mars. 

And  Albion  guard  their  Queen  :          Mammon. 
These  Joys,  that  as  a  Vision  now  appear, 
All,  all  shall  come  to  pass,  and  crown 

Th'  approaching  Glorious  Year. 

[Here's  a   Grand  Chorus  of  Voices  and 
Instruments?^ 


The  Scotch  LOVER  at  Epsom. 


63=** 


— E^-  '  ;      ^    — 


54  SONGS  Compleat, 


WOe  is  me,  what  mun  I  doe, 
Drinking  waters  I  may  rue  ; 
Since  my  heart  soe  muckle  harm  befel, 
Wounded  by  a  bonny  Lass  at  Epsom  well. 
Ise  ha  bin  at  Dalkeith  Fair, 
Seen  the  Charming  Faces  there, 
But  all  Scotland  now  geud  feth  defye, 
Sike  a  lipp  to  shew,  and  lovely  rowling  Eye. 

Jennys  skin  was  white,  her  fingers  small, 
Moggy  she  was  slender  straight  and  tall, 
But  my  Love  here  bears  away  the  Bell  from  all ; 

For  her  I  Sigh, 

For  her  I  dye, 

In  a  Wild  dispair  : 

Never  Man  in  Woman  took  such  joy, 
Never  Woman  was  to  man  so  coy, 

She'll  not  be  my  hony, 

For  my  Love  or  mony, 
Welladay,  what  Torment  I  mun  bear. 

When 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  5  5 

When  Ise  to  the  Lottery  gang, 
Where  the  Ladds  and  Lasses  throng ; 
What  I  lose  alas,  I  never  care, 
All  my  heart,  and  soul,  were  won  before  by  her : 
Or  when  Raffling  is  her  choice, 
For  the  pretty  Silver  Toyes ; 
Then  I  wish,  the  Dice  may  all  run  low, 
Glad  of  losing  that  I  may  oblige  her  so  : 
Ah,  what  muckle  difference  is  there  found 
In  the  pliant  Girles  of  London  Toon, 
Besse,  and  Pegg,  and  Moll, 
And  Kate,  and  Sue,  and  Doll, 
The  fair  and  small, 
The  Brown  and  tall ; 
Will  aw  come  too  : 

Nean  will  boggle  at  five  hundred  Pound, 
Nean  refuse  a  fine  embroyder'd  Goon, 
Aw  will  shew  their  nature, 
But  this  Cross  grain'd  creature, 
Deel  en  take  her,  friend — what  mun  I  do. 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG  in  my  Play  call'd  the  Richmond 
Heiress  :  Sung  by  Mr.  Pack. 


9- — G>- 


— P T  O    •    0-*  f    t    9-v 

^-^^ 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  5  7 

MAiden  fresh  as  a  Rose, 
Young  buxome  and  full  of  jollity, 
Take  no  Spouse  among  Beaux, 

Fond  of  their  Raking  quality ; 
He  who  wears  a  long  bush, 

All  powder'd  down  from  his  Pericrane, 
And  with  Nose  full  of  Snush, 

Snuffles  out  Love  in  a  meriy  vein. 

Who  to  Dames  of  high  place, 

Do's  prattle  like  any  Parrot  too, 
Yet  with  Doxies  a  brace, 

At  Night,  piggs  in  a  Garret  too ; 
Patrimony  out-run, 

To  make  a  fine  shew  to  carry  thee, 
Plainly  Friend  thou'rt  undone, 

If  such  a  Creature  Marry  thee. 

Then  for  fear  of  a  bribe, 

Of  flattering  noise  and  vanity, 
Yoak  a  Lad  of  our  Tribe, 

He'll  shew  thee  best  humanity ; 
Flashy,  thou  wilt  find  Love, 

In  civil  as  well  as  secular, 
But  when  Spirit  doth  move, 

We  have  a  gift  particular. 

Tho'  our  graveness  is  pride, 

That  boobys  the  more  may  venerate, 
He  that  gets  a  Rich  Bride, 

Can  jump  when  he's  to  Generate ; 
Off  then  goes  the  disguise, 

To  bed  in  his  Arms  he'll  carry  thee, 
Then  to  be  happy  and  wise, 

Take  Yea  and  Nay  to  Marry  thee. 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  New  SONG. 

Made  on  the  late  Glorious  Battle  and  Vic 
tory  gaind  over  the  French  by  the  Duke 
of  Marlborough  and  Prince  Eugene  ;  and 
also  the  taking  of  ]& 


'~Z^_m   • it""v         r^   ^    >^  .    i    K 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


59 


t— r 


NOw  Cannon  smoke  clouds  all  the  sky, 
And  through  the  gloomy  wood ; 
From  ev'ry  Trench  the  bougers  fly, 
Besmeer'd  with  dust  and  Blood : 
Whilst  valour's  palm,  is  ours  in  fight, 
And  Mom  to  terms  we  bring ; 
Let  Bragging  Boufflers  vainly  write, 
False  wonders  to  the  King : 
Fate  resolves  to  end  the  war, 
And  Lewis  like  a  falling  star, 
Though  late  he  sate  on  high, 
A  meteor  of  the  sky, 
Shall  from  his  place  remove, 
Whilst  Europe  o'er  does  rove 
With  welcome  olive  branch,  the  Peaceful  Dove. 

Hail 


60  SONGS  Compleat, 

Hail  mighty  Marlborough,  great  Eugene, 

Thanks  for  your  glorious  toile  ; 

And  'mongst  the  best  of  Marshal  men, 

Nassau  and  brave  Argyle  : 

Warriours  in  honours  bed  who  lye, 

Whose  fame  shall  ever  spring, 

Take  for  reward  perpetual  joy; 

Whose  great  renown  we  sing  : 

Mounsieur,  Mounsieur,  leave  off  Spain, 

To  think  to  hold  it  is  in  vain, 

Thy  Warriours  are  too  few ; 

Thy  Martials  must  be  new, 

Worse  losses  will  ensue  : 

Then  without  more  ado 

Be  wise,  and  strait  call  home,  Petite  Anjof 

Forty  long  years  thou  hast  in  gore 

Been  dabling  up  and  down  ; 

Seek  now  Imperial  Crowns  no  more, 

But  plot  to  save  thy  own  : 

Sweden  the  buckler  to  thy  arm, 

Fomenter  of  the  war  ; 

Who  kept  thy  blind  Ambition  warm, 

Flyes  from  the  frozen  Czar : 

Fill  then  a  glass  each  Brittish  heart, 

From  this  great  Health  let  no  one  start ; 

Here's  to  our  happy  Queen, 

To  Marlborough  and  Eugene: 

And  those  that  shortly  mean, 

To  wade  the  River  Sein, 

'Tis,  'tis  a  Cordial  rare  to  cure  the  Spleen. 


Lyrical 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  6 1 

Lyrical  VERSES  ; 

Made  in  honoitr  of  the  Nobility  and  Gentry 
Assembling  on  the  Jirst  day  of  March 
174-5-.  Being  the  Anniversary  of  St. 
DAVID  :  A  Iso  the  Birth-day  of  Her  Royal 
Highness  the  PRINCESS  ;  Written,  Set  to 
Musick,  and  humbly  Address  d  by  T. 
D'URFEY. 

AS  far  as  the  glittering  God  of  day 
Extends  his  radiant  light  ; 
Old  Britain  her  Glory  will  display, 

In  every  Action  bright : 
The  Fleur  de  Use,  and  English  Rose, 

May  boast  of  their  Antique  tales ; 
But  the  Leek  with  the  greatest  honour  grows. 
For  the  lasting  renown  of  Wales. 

In  vain  all  our  Musical  Bards  did  seek, 

To  know  whence  this  glory  sprung  ; 
For  time  out  of  mind  has  the  famous  Leek 

In  Tuneful  Verse  been  sung : 
By  the  Teutons  allow'd,  and  victorious  Rome, 

And  the  brave  Black  Prince  ne'er  fails  ; 
The  Battle  of  old  by  this  Signal  o'recome, 

To  exalt  the  renown  of  Wales. 

The  brave  British  Heroes  did  often  appear, 

Recorded  in  Golden  lines, 
Cadwallader  first  led  the  van  without  fear, 
With  whom  Conan  and  Griffieth  joyns  : 
We'll  give  them  their  due, 
But  must  now  find  out  new, 
And  our  valiant  young  Prince  bring  in  play  ; 
Who  by  pow'r  divine, 
Proves,  he's  fated  to  shine, 
In  a  sphere,  as  serene  as  they. 

Let 


62  SONGS  Compleat, 

Let  Cinthia  give  up  her  Reign  of  the  Night, 

And  abscond  in  the  foamy  seas  ; 
The  Princess  that  power  must  claim  as  her  right, 
If  Beauty  has  power  to  please  : 

The  Goddess  confest, 

All  our  hearts  has  possest ; 
And  will  more  every  Age  o'ercome, 

By  her  temper  that  charms, 

And  adorably  warms, 
And  her  brace  of  young  Angels  at  home. 

Shine  out  then  bright  Star,  and  whilst  Nations  from  far, 
All  unite  to  applaud  thy  worth  ; 

We  sounding  our  joys, 

With  a  general  voice, 
Bless  the  Day  that  first  gave  the  Birth  : 

To  George  and  his  race, 

Let  Pretenders  give  place, 
Wheresoe'er  they  are  known  or  seen, 
And  when  he  soars  on  high,  twill  to  them  be  some  joy  ; 

Who  survive  to  see  thee  a  Queen. 


An  ODE  on  the  Anniversary  of  the  Queens- 
Birth.  Set  to  Mustek  by  Mr.  Henry 
Purcel,  April  ^th,  1690. 

A  Rise  my  Muse,  and  to  thy  tuneful  Lyre, 
Compose  a  mighty  Ode  : 
Whose  Charming  Nature  may  Inspire 
The  Bosom  of  some  listning  God 
To  Consecrate,  thy  bold  Advent'rous  Verse, 
And  Gloriands  Fame  disperse 
O're  the  Wide  Confines  of  the  Universe  ; 
Ye  Sons  of  Musick  raise  your  Voices  high  : 
And  like  your  Theme  be  your  blest  Harmony : 

Sound 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  63 

Sound  all  your  Instruments  &  charm  the  earth ; 
Upon  this  Sacred  day  of  Gloriands  Birth. 

[Second  Movement.'] 

See  how  the  Glittering  Ruler  of  the  Day, 
From  the  cool  Bosom  of  the  Sea, 
Drives,  Drives  with  speed  away, 
And  does  attending  Planets  all 
To  wanton  Revels  Call. 
Who  from  the  Starry  East  and  West ;  \ 
To  Celebrate  this  day  make  hast, 
And  in  new  Robes  of  Glory  drest        j 

Dance  in  a  Solemn  Ball, 
Chorus,    Hail  gracious  Gloriana  Hail ; 

May  every  future  year 
Rowl  on,  unknown  to  Care  ; 
May  each  propitious  Morn  arise 
Bright  as  your  vertue,  charming  as  your  Eyes, 
And  each  succeeding  hour  new  pleasures  bring, 
To  make  the  Muses  yearly  sing  : 

All  Hail,  All  Hail, 

Brightest  and  best  of  Queens,  all  Hail. 
And  though  the  times  distress,  to  Wars  alarms 
Calls  the  lov'd  Monarch  from  your  Arms ; 
Your  Phoebus  does  to  lower  Spheres  decline, 
Only  to  Rise  again,  and  with  more  Lustre  shine. 

[Third  Movement!] 

To  quell  his  Countries  Foes 

Behold,  the  God-like  Hero  goes, 

Fated  and  born  to  Conquer  all, 

Both  the  great,  vulgar  and  the  small, 

To  hunt  the  Savages  from  Dens  : 

To  teach  'em  Loyalty  and  Sence  : 

And  sordid  Souls  of  the  true  Faith  Convince. 

*   The   But  ah,  I  see  *Eusebia  drown'd  in  Tears  ; 

Church.  The  sad  Eusebia  mourning  Wears, 

And 


64  SONGS 

And  in  dejected  State 
Thus  moans  her  hapless  Fate  ; 
Ah  wretched  me,  must  Ccesar  for  my  sake, 
These  fatal  dangers  undertake. 
No,  no,  ye  awful  Powers,  no,  no,' 
Fate  must  some  meaner  force  Employ. 

Fate  must  not  let  him  go  ; 
But  Glory  cryes  go  on  ; 

On,  on,  Illustrious  Man  ; 
Leave  not  the  Work  undone, 
Thou  hast  so  well  begun. 
Go  on,  great  Prince  go  on. 
Chorus  S>ts,  See,  all  Europe  bend  their  eyes 

On  thy  great  enterprize  : 
Advance  thy  dazling  Shield, 

And  hast  then  to  the  Field ; 
Hast,  hast,  to  Honour  and  Renown, 
Honour,  that  on  a  Heroe's  brow  shines  brighter 
than  a  Crown. 


Chorus  of  All. 

Exalt,  exalt,  your  Voices  high, 

And  with  your  skilful  melody : 
Raise  GlorianaV  grief  to  Joy : 
Bring  warbling  Lutes  to  hush  her  Cares, 
Bring  moving  Flutes  to  Charm  her  ears. 
Ah  I  may  their  softning  Influence 
Each  passion  Calm,  please  every  sence : 
And  never,  never,  let  her  Mourn; 
Great  Czesar's  Absence  short  will  be,  and  Glorious 
His  Return. 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


A  Mock  Address  to  the  French  KING. 

A  SONG.  Occasioned  by  the  two  Glorious 
Victory s  at  Donawert,  and  Hochstet,  by 
his  Grace  the  Z^/^^/MARLBOROUGH  and 
Prince  EUGENE.  The  Tune  by  Mr. 
Corbet. 


EE^E^S 


VOL.  I. 


66 


SONGS  Compleat, 


OLd  Lewis  must  thy  Frantick  Riot 
Still  all  Europe  vex  ? 
Methinks  'tis  high  time  to  be  quiet, 

Now  at  Sixty  Six  : 
Thou  late  hast  Acted,  as  Distracted, 

Placing  Phillips  Crown, 
And  faith  if  that  I,  can  Prophecy, 

Thy  own  is  tumbling  down  : 
For  now  thy  Flower  of  Arms  are  lost, 

Of  Empire  dream  no  more, 
Thy  trembling  Gensd'arms  off  will  post, 

When  English  Cannons  roar : 
And  whilst  Tallard  and  others  frown, 

To  play  their  captive  Scene, 
The  fates  with  Oaken  Garlands  crown 

Great  Marlborough  and  Eugme. 

Rebellious 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  67 

Rebellious,  vile,  and  abject  state, 

In  lost  Bavaria  see, 
From  Princely  station  forc'd  of  late, 

To  serve  now  basely  thee  : 
His  scatter'd  Race  to  corners  fled, 

Scarce  having  means  for  Life, 
And  he  for  their  poor  distressful  bread, 

Beholding  to  his  Wife  : 
The  Bann  inrag'd,  his  Country  gon, 

Thy  Plots  too  all  unhing'd, 
The  baseness  to  our  Kingdom  shewn, 

In  proper  time  reveng'd ; 
And  all  by  Wars  renown'd  alarms, 

Made  by  our  Glorious  Queen, 
For  who  can  e're  oppose  in  arms, 

Brave  Marlborough  and  Eugene. 

Pharsalia,  where  fames  golden  book, 

Shews  Ctzsar's  glorious  Theme, 
Must  yield  to  her,  whose  Hero  took, 

An  Army  at  Blenheim  : 
Landau  retriev'd,  and  Traerbach  gain'd, 

Do's  next  years  fate  presage, 
And  end  the  most  Renown'd  Campaign, 

E're  known  in  any  Age  ; 
Yet  Lewis,  pray  be  sure  for  this, 

Te-Deums  loud  you  roar, 
And  let  your  Cousin  the  Arch-Bish, 

Appoint  'em  as  before  : 
Whilst  we  that  with  good  Reason  think, 

Our  Joys  are  now  serene, 
Extol  when  flowing  Bowls  we  drink, 

Great  Marlborough  and  Eugene. 


F  2  Love 


68  SONGS  Compleat, 


LOVE  of  no  Party :  A  New  SONG. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  69 

-fej-l — g> — E-'p=g=^r~* — P — 9^£ 


ONe  ^/«7  Morn,  when  from  the  Sea, 
Pfuzbus  was  just  appearing  ; 
Damon  and  CV//0  young  and  gay, 
Long  settled  Love  indearing : 
Met  in  a  Grove  to  vent  their  spleen, 

On  Parents  unrelenting ; 
He  bred  of  Tory  race  had  been, 
She  of  the  Tribe  Dissenting. 

Celia,  whose  Eyes  outshone  the  God, 

Newly  the  hills  adorning ; 
Told  him  Mamma  wou'd  be  stark  mad, 

She  missing  Pray'rs  that  morning  : 
Damon,  his  Arm  around  her  wast, 

Swore  tho'  nought  shou'd  'em  sunder ; 
Shou'd  my  rough  Dad  know  how  I'm  blest, 

Twou'd  make  him  roar  like  Thunder. 

Great  ones  whom  proud  Ambition  blinds, 

By  Faction  still  support  it ; 
Or  where  vile  money  taints  the  mind, 

They  for  convenience  court  it : 
But  mighty  Love,  that  scorns  to  shew, 

Party  shou'd  raise  his  glory ; 
Swears  he'll  Exalt  a  Vassal  true, 

Let  it  be  Whigg,  or  Tory. 


An 


7o  SONGS  Compleat, 

An   ODE 

For  the  Anniversary  Feast  of  ST.  CECILIA, 
On  the  2^d  Day  of  November,  1691. 


Set  to  Music  by  Dr.  John  Blow. 

XHE  Glorious  Day  is  come,  that  will  for  ever  be 
Renown'd  as  MUSIC'S  greatest  Jubilee: 
Spheres,  those  Instruments  Divine, 
Tun'd  to  Apollds  Charming  Lyre  ; 
The  Sons  of  all  the  Learned  Nine, 

With  soft  Harmonious  Souls  Inspire  ; 
Behold,  around  Pernassus  Top  they  sit, 
And  Heavenly  Music  now,  vies  with  Immortal  Wit 
Warm'd  by  the  Nectar  from  the  Thespian  Spring, 
Of  bright  Ccecilia  they  sing  ; 
Admir'd  Cacilia  that  informs  their  Brains  : 
Their  awful  Goddess,  that  their  Cause  maintains  ; 
And  with  her  sacred  Pow'r  supplies, 

The  Artful  Hand  and  tuneful  Voice, 
And  gives  a  taste  of  Paradice,  in  more  than  mortal 
Strains. 

And  first  the  Trumpets  Part 
Inflames  the  Heroe's  Heart  ; 
The  Martial  Noise  compleats  his  Joys, 
And  Soul  Inspires  by  Art  : 
And  now  he  thinks  he's  in  the  Field, 
And  now  he  makes  the  foe  to  yield  \ 
Now  Victory  does  eagerly  pursue, 
And  Music's  warlike  Notes  make  every  fancy  true. 

The  Battle  done,  all  loud  alarms  do  cease, 
Hark  how  the  charming  Flutes  conclude  the  Peace  ; 
Whose  softening  Notes  make  fiercest  Rage  obey  : 
If  Pan,  beneath  the  famous  Mirtle's  shade, 

To  Midas  half  so  well  had  Play'd, 
The  Delphian  God  himself  had  lost  the  Day. 

Ex- 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  7 1 

Excesses  of  Pleasure  now  crowd  on  apace ; 

How  sweetly  the  Violins  sound  to  each  Bass : 

The  ravishing  Trebles  delight  ev'ry  Ear, 

And  Mirth  in  a  Scene  of  true  Joy  does  appear : 

No  Lover  of  Phillis's  rigour  complains  ; 

None  mourn  for  their  losses,  or  laugh  for  their  gains ; 

But  lost  in  an  Extasie  publish  their  Joy, 

Whilst  the  Name  of  Ccecilia  resounds  to  the  Sky. 

Ah  Heaven  !  what  is't  I  hear  ? 
The  Warbling  Lute  Inchants  my  Ear : 
Now  Beauty's  Pow'r  Inflames  my  Breast  again ; 
I  Sigh,  and  Languish  with  a  pleasing  Pain. 

The  Notes  so  soft,  so  sweet  the  Air, 

The  Soul  of  Love  must  sure  be  there, 
That  mine    in   Rapture    charms,  and    drives    away 
Despair. 

Mustek  !  Celestial  Mustek  !  what  can  be,  \ 
On  this  side  Heaven,  compar'd  to  thee  ?  > 
Thou  only  Treat,  fit  for  a  Deity  :  J 

Monarchs  by  Flattery  or  Fame, 
May  Arrogate  a  Glorious  Name, 

But  in  each  Soul  Delighting  Symphony, 
Address'd  to  bright  Cceeilids  Royalty, 

Are  Sacred  Honours  fit  for  none,  but  for  Divine 
degree. 

This  that  blest  King,  and  God-like  Prophet  knew, 
That  oft  from  Worldly  Joys  withdrew ; 

From  Glittering  Pomp,  and  all  the  Courtly  Throng ; 
And  to  th'  Eternal  King  of  Kings, 
To  the  sweet  Harp's  well  govern'd  Strings, 

Paid  best  Devotion  in  Seraphick  Song. 

CHORUS. 

And  thus  by  Musicks  Pow'r, 
Above  dull  Earth  we  soar ; 
Exalt  our  Chorus  to  the  Skie, 

And  in  Transporting  Melody 
Csecilia'j  Name  Adore. 
Divine  Caecilia,  whom  we  all  confess 
Our  Arts  Inspire;  Mustek's  Patroness. 

A 


72  SONGS  Compleat, 

A  SONG  in  Don  Quixote. 

Sung  by  one  representing  Joy.     Set  io 
Miisick  by  Mr.  Ralph  Courtivill. 

VIctumnus  Flora  you  that  bless  the  fields, 
Where  warbling  Philomel, 
Warbling  Philomel  in  safety  builds ; 
And  to  the  Nymphs,  to  the  Nymphs  and  Swains, 
That  Revel,  Revel,  Revel  o're  these  plains, 

That  Revel  o're  these  plains  : 
Dispose  the  Joy,  dispose  the  Joy, 
Dispose  the  Joys  that  Heav'n  and  Nature  yields. 

Call  Hymen,  call  Hymen,  call,  call,  call,  call ; 

Call   Hymen  from  his  merry,    merry,   merry,  merry, 

merry,  merry  home  ; 

From  his  merry,  merry,  merry,  merry  home ; 
From  his  merry,  merry,  merry,  merry  home  : 
Call  Hymen,  call,  call  Hymen  from  his  merry,  merry, 

merry,  merry,  merry  home  ; 
Bid  him  prepare,  prepare,  bid  him  prepare, 
Bid  him  prepare,  prepare,  prepare  his  Torch, 
And  come  to  Sing  and  Drink,  to  Sing  and  Drink, 
To  Sing  and  Drink  full  Bowls ; 
Call,  call,  call  loud,  call,  call,  call  loud,  loud, 
Call  loud,  and  say,  'tis  Beauty's  feast,  'tis  Beauty's 

feast, 

'Tis  Beauty's  feast,  Quitera's  Wedding  Day ; 

'Tis  Beauty's  feast,  Quiterds  Wedding  Day, 

Quiterds  Wedding  Day. 


Ill 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  73 

A  Mad  DIALOGUE. 

Sung  in  my  Play,  call'd  the  Richmond 
Heiress,  by  Mr.  Leveridge  and  Mrs. 
Lynsey  ;  Set  to  Mustek  by  Mr.  Henry 
Purcell.  In  Orph.  Britan. 

He.    T)  Ehold,  behold  the  Man  that  with  Gigantick 

JD     Might, 

Dares,  dares,  dares  Combat  Heav'n  again ; 

Storm  Joves  bright  Palace,  put  the  Gods  to  flight; 

Chaos  renew,  and  make  perpetual  Night ; 

Come  on,  come  on,  come  on  ye  Fighting,  Fight 
ing  Fools, 

Come  on,  come  on,  come  on  ye  Fighting,  Fight 
ing  Fools, 

That  petty,  petty  Jars  maintain, 

That  petty,  petty  Jars  maintain ; 

I've  all,  all  the  Wars  of  Europe, 

All  the  Wars  of  Europe  in  my  Brain, 

I've  all,  all,  all  the  Wars  of  Europe  in  my  Brain. 

She.  Who's  he  that  talks  of  War  ? 

When  charming,  charming  Beauty  comes, 
Whose  sweet,  sweet,  sweet  Face  divinely  Fair, 
Eternal     pleasure,     eternal     pleasure,     eternal 

pleasure  blooms  ; 
When  I  appear,  the  Martial,  Martial  God  a  con- 

quer'd  Victim  lyes ; 
Obeys  each  glance,  each  awful  Nod, 
And  dreads  the  lightning  of  my  killing  Eyes ; 
More,  more  than  the  fiercest,  the  fiercest, 
The  fiercest  Thunder  in  the  Skies. 

He.  Ha  !  ha  !  now,  now,  now,  now  we  mount  up  high, 
Now,  now  we  mount  up  high, 
The  Sun's  bright  God  and  I, 
Charge,  charge,  charge  on  the  Azure, 
Charge  on  the  Azure  downs  of  ample  Sky. 

See 


74  SONGS  Compleat, 

See,  see,  see,  see,  see,  see,  see,  see, 

See,  see,  see,  see,  see,  see,  see,  see, 

How  th'  immortal  Spirits  run, 

See,  see,  see,  see,  see,  see,  see,  see 

How  th'  immortal  Spirits  run  ; 

Pursue,  pursue,  pursue,  pursue,  pursue, 

Pursue,  pursue,  pursue,  pursue,  pursue, 

Drive  'em  o'er  the  burning  Zone  ; 

Drive  'em  o'er  the  burning  Zone, 

From  thence  come  rowling  down, 

Come  rowling  down,  and  search  the  Globe  below, 

With  all  the  Gulphy  Main,  to  find  my  lost, 

My  wandring  Sense,  my  wandring  Sense  again. 

She.  By  this  disjoynted  matter. 
That  crouds  thy  Pericranium, 
I  nicely  have  found 
That  thy  Brain  is  not  sound, 
And  thou  shalt  be, 
And  thou  shalt  be  my  Companion. 

Come,  come,  come,  come,  come,  come, 
He.  Let  us  plague  the  World  then, 

I  embrace  the  blest  Occasion  ; 
For  by  instinct  I  find 
Thou  art  one  of  the  Kind, 
Thou  art  one  of  the  Kind, 
That  first  brought  in, 
That  first  brought  in  Damnation. 

She.  My  Face  has  Heaven  inchanted 

With  all  the  sky  born  Fellows, 
Jove  press'd  to  my  Breast,  and  my  Bosom  he 
kiss'd, 

Which  made  Old  Juno  Jealous. 

He.  I  challeng'd  grisly  Pluto, 

But  the  God  of  Fire  did  shun  me, 
Witty  Hermes  I  drubb'd,  round  the  Pole  with  my 
Club, 
For  breaking  Jokes  upon  me. 

Chorus 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  75 

[CAorus  of  both.] 

Then  mad,  very  mad,  very  mad  let  us  be, 
For  Europe  does  now  with  our  Frenzy  agree, 
And  all  Things  in  Nature  are  made  too  as  we. 

She.      I  found  Apollo  singing, 

The  Tune  my  Rage  increases, 
I  made  him  so  blind  with  a  Look  that  was  kind, 
That  he  broke  his  Lyre  to  pieces. 

He.       I  drank  a  Health  to  Venus, 

And  the  Mole  on  her  white  shoulder ; 
Mars  flinch'd  at  the  Glass,  and  I  threw't  in  his 

Face, 
Was  ever  Hero  bolder  ? 

She.      'Tis  true,  my  dear  Alddes, 

Things  tend  to  Dissolution  ; 
The  charms  of  a  Crown,  and  the  crafts  of  the 

Gown, 
Have  brought  all  to  Confusion. 

He.       The  haughty  French  begun  it, 
The  English  Wits  pursue  it. 
She.      The   German  and  Turk  still  go  on  with  the 

Work, 
He.          And  all  in  Time  will  rue  it. 

CHORUS. 

Then  mad,  very  mad  let  us  be, 

Very  mad,  very  mad  let  us  be, 

For  Europe  does  now  with  our  Frenzy  agree, 

And  all  Things  in  Nature  are  mad  too  as  we. 


76  SONGS  Compleat, 

A  SONG  by  a  Mad  Lady  in  Don  Quixote. 
Set  by  Mr.  John  Eccles. 

I  Burn,  I  burn,  I  burn,  I  burn,  I  burn, 
I  burn,  I  burn,  I  burn,  I  burn,  I  burn, 
My  Brain  consumes  to  Ashes, 
Each  Eye-ball  too  like  Lightning  flashes, 
Like  Lightning  flashes ; 
Within  my  Breast  there  glows  a  solid  Fire, 
Which  in  a  thousand,  thousand  Ages  can't  expire. 

Blow,  blow,  blow, 
Blow  the  Winds,  great  Ruler  blow, 
Bring  the  Po  and  the  Ganges  hither, 
Tis  sultry,  sultry,  sultry  Weather ; 
Pour  'em  all  on  my  Soul,  it  will  hiss, 
It  will  hiss  like  a  Coal, 
But  never,  never  be  the  cooler. 

'Twas  pride,  hot  as  Hell,  that  first  made  me  rebel, 
From  Love's  awful  Throne  a  curst  Angel  I  fell ; 

And  mourn  now  the  Fate, 

Which  my  self  did  create, 
Fool,  Fool,  that  consider'd  not  when  I  was  well ; 

And  mourn  now  the  Fate, 

Which  my  self  did  create, 
Fool,  Fool,  that  consider'd  not  when  I  was  well. 

Adieu,  adieu  transporting  Joys, 
Adieu,  adieu  transporting  Joys ; 
Off,  off,  off,  ye  vain  fantastick  Toys, 
Off,  off  ye  vain  fantastick  Toys, 

That  drep'd  this  Face  and  Body  to  allure, 
Bring,  bring  me  Daggers, 
Poyson,  Fire,  Fire,  Daggers,  Poyson,  Fire, 
For  Scorn  is  turn'd  into  Desire ; 
All  Hell,  all  Hell  feels  not  the  Rage, 

Which  I,  poor  I,  which  I,  poor  I  endure. 

Re- 


Pleasant  and  Diver  tive.  77 


Remarks  for  the  French  KING. 

A  SONG  Occasioned  by  the  taking  of  Lisle 
and  that  Glorious  Campaign. 


=F=I 


-    I   jH-»  .       -I— »        »-l —  — ^-HP1 


— 9 1 j.  U_| !-L  _4_ 


SONGS  Compleat, 


GRand  Z<fze//.r  let  pride  be  abated, 
Thy  Marshals  have  all  had  a  foyle ; 
Boufflers  like  Tallard  is  ill  Fated, 
And  Vendosme  remembers  the  Dyle. 
Thy  hand  is  quite  out  at  Invasions, 
And  spite  of  thy  Fortifications, 
Brave  Eugene  has  taken  Lisle: 
Tho'  one  day  Burgundy p, 
Was  merry  with  Berry, 

And  bragg'd  the  Queens  Troops  he  would  scourge, 
Make  Britains,  and  great  ones, 
This  Summer  run  from  her, 
And  own  Chevalier  de  St.  George  ; 
Tho'  the  Crump  too  that  Season, 
Got  Bruges  and  Ghent  by  Treason, 
We'll  make  him  e'er  long  disgorge. 

A 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  79 

A  Pox  of  your  race  of  high  Flyers, 
That  late  on  the  Battlements  stood ; 
Who  shew'd  to  get  out  of  the  Bryers, 
What  Princes  you  had  of  the  Blood ; 
And  welfare  the  Gallant  Hanover, 
Who  late  his  high  Birth  to  discover ; 
Charg'd  as  a  young  Hero  shou'd : 
'Tis  said  too,  who  fled  too, 
Were  snapt  so,  and  cropt  so, 
They  never  could  face  us  again  ; 
That  cunning,  or  running, 
Won't  better  the  matter, 
They  shun  mighty  Marlborough  in  vain, 
And  Monsieur  t'alarm  ye, 
If  once  more  he  Hockstets  your  Army, 
We'll  give  ye  no  thanks  for  Spain. 

Thy  Troops  can  do  nothing  but  rattle, 

Brave  Webb  the  discovery  begun  ; 

Who  prov'd  at  the  Wynendale  Battle, 

How  fast  thy  Mob  Army  could  run  : 

His  valour  shall  flourish  in  Story, 

And  thus  while  he  adds  to  our  Glory, 

His  own  will  out-Post  the  Sun. 

Forgetting  that  beating, 

A  hearty  bold  party, 

Late  Marcht  towards  Brussels  fair  Town, 

There  bouncing  and  clattring, 

With  Cannon  for  battring, 

The  Electoral  Hotspur  sate  down  ; 

But  when  some  time  after, 

Our  Generals  cross'd  o're  the  water, 

Away  the  wild  Goose  was  flown. 

Bavaria  this  shameful  disaster, 
Not  half  yet  repays  thy  past  ill, 
For  first  being  base  to  thy  Master, 
And  afterwards  false  to  King  Will; 

And 


8o  SONGS  Compleat, 

And  if  'tis  thy  simple  Opinion, 

Le  Roy  can  restore  thy  Dominion, 

Parblew  thou  art  frantick  still : 

Pursuing  his  Ruin, 

We're  Marching  and  Charging, 

Resolv'd  on  a  winter's  Campaign, 

Cold  Snowing,  and  Blowing, 

In  Terrour  are  shewing, 

Great  Marlborough  and  Glorious  Eugene. 

We'll  Storm  too  like  Thunder, 

Vile  Towns  that  are  Fated  for  Plunder, 

And  take  'em  L'Espee  a  la  main. 


A  SONG. 

Sung  by  Mr.  Pack  in  the  OPERA  calVd  the 
Kingdom  of  the  Birds,  to  the  Dance  be 
tween  the  High  and  Low  Flyers. 


p=p^-< 


1 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


81 


=t=f=f  „  .  r.»  rr£ «— 


T  T  7"  Hat  are  these  Ideots  doing, 
VV     That  daily  their  Feuds  advance  \ 
As  if  they  were  pursuing, 

New  ways  to  favour  France  ? 
For  shame  give  over  your  Dance ; 

Your  National  danger  see ; 
No  longer  forfeit  your  sense, 

But  agree,  ye  rash  Britains,  agree. 

Whilst  strange  and  trivial  Reasons, 

The  whimsical  Brain  allures ; 
You  lose  the  happy  Season, 

That  shou'd  encourage  your  Powers. 
The  Monsieur  is  at  your  Doors, 

And  if  he  received  must  be  ; 
The  Shame  and  the  Scandal  is  Yours  : 

Then  agree,  ye  Rash  Britains  agree. 

Ye  Soaring  High-flown  People, 

In  Politicks  so  profound, 
You  climb  so  high  on  your  Steeple, 

It  makes  your  Brain  turn  round. 
VOL.  i.  G 


Con_ 


82  SONGS  Compleat, 

Consider  how  you  lose  Ground, 

If  Foreigners  Master  be, 
Whilst  you  with  Maggots  abound  ; 

Then  agree,  silly  Britains^  agree. 

And  you,  whose  senseless  Jargon, 

Contentious  Night  and  Morn, 
Declaims  against  an  Organ, 

As  'twere  a  Sow-gelder's  Horn  : 
Let  Concord's  Power  adorn 

Your  Hearts,  if  wise  you'll  be, 
Nor  longer  merit  a  Scorn ; 

But  agree,  silly  Britains,  agree. 

Tis  known  you  are  richly  landed, 

And  you  have  a  place  at  Court ; 
And  you  the  Bank  have  commanded, 

And  you  have  two  Ships  in  Port, 
Yet  still  ye  Reason  retort ; 

And  if  ye  ruin'd  must  be, 
'Tis  all  rank  Folly  in  short ; 

Then  agree,  silly  Britains,  agree. 

Religious  Safety  doubted 

Still  makes  the  Nation  groan, 
You  make  such  Stirs  about  it, 

Some  Wise  Heads  think  you  have  none ; 
But  all  is  for  Interest  done, 

As  faith  it  likely  may  be, 
Let  that  Point  stated  be  known, 

And  agree,  ye  rash  Britains^  agree. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


The  NIGHTINGALE. 

Sung  by  Mrs.  Balwin,  in  the  Kingdom  of 
the  Birds. 


JL. — ^_ V  v_/      -U— LCZ3-.I 


^hr^=::^^^:^£^H  HH 


G    2 


84 


SONGS  Compleat, 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


JUG,  jug,  jug,  jug,  jug,  jug,  jug, 
jug,  jug,  jug,  jug,  jug,  jug, 
The  jolly  Philomel  upon  the  Hawthorn  sings, 
The  jolly  Philomel  upon  the  Hawthorn  sings, 
sings,  upon  the  Hawthorn  sings. 

Happy  we,  that  all,  all  excel 
In  what  true  Pleasures,  true  Pleasures  bring ; 
Yet  one  Island,  one  Island  lyes  below, 
Who,  did  they  but  the  Blessing  know, 

They  reap  by  Glorious  Means, 
Wou'd  raise  their  tuneful  Voices  high, 
And  never  cease  this  Song  of  Joy, 

Long  live  the  best  of  Queens, 
Long  live  the  best  of  Queens. 


On 


86 


SONGS  Compleat, 


On   the  Affairs  Abroad,   and  King 
WILLIAM'S  Expedition. 

Set  by  Dr.  Blow. 


fc£=g=^: 


-  f  -  =^  -       --  _  -  0.  - 




_r — — P-P 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  8  7 


Scruples  and  Tars  plunge  all  Europe  in 
_,       Wars, 

English  Caesar  espouses  our  Quarrel, 
Predestin'd  to  stand  against  Lewis  le  Grand, 
And  wear  his  now  flourishing  Laurel. 

The  Cause  that  is  best,  now  comes  to  the  Test, 
For  Heaven  will  no  longer  stand  Neuter, 

But  pronounce  the  great  Doom  for  old    Luther  or 

Rome, 
And  prevent  ail  our  Doubts  for  the  future  : 

T would  turn  a  wise  Brain,  to  consider  what  Pain 

Fools  take  to  become  Politicians, 
Fops,  Bullies,  and  Cits,  all  set  up  for  Wits, 

And  ingeniously  hatch  New  Divisions. 

Some  shew  their  hot  Zeal  for  a  New  Common-weal, 

And  some  for  a  New  Restauration, 
Thus  cavil  and  brawl,  'till  the  Mounsieur  gets  all, 

And  best  proves  the  Wit  of  the  Nation. 

Tho'  we  Med'cines  apply,  yet  the  Feaver  swells  high, 

First  caus'd  by  a  Catholick  Riot, 
Which  no  Cure  can  gain,  'till  the  breathing  a  Vein 

Corrects  the  mad  Pulse  into  Quiet ; 

Yet  whate'er  Disease  on  our  Country  may  chance, 

Let's  drink  to  its  healing  Condition, 
And  rather  wish  William  were  Victor  in  France, 

Than  Lewis  were  England's  Physician. 


88  SONGS  Compleat, 

A  DIALOGUE. 

Highly  diverting  Queen  Mary,  in  the  4th 
Act  of  the  second  Part  of  DON  QUIXOTE; 
for  a  Clown  and  his  Wife.  Sung  by 
Mr.  Reading  and  Mrs.  Ayliff.  Set  by 
Mr.  Henry  Purcell 

In  Orph.  Britan. 

He.   OInce  Times  are    so    bad,    I  must  tell  you 
v^       Sweet-Heart, 

I'm  thinking  to  leave  off  my  Plough  and  my  Cart ; 
And  to  the  fair  City  a  Journey  will  go, 
To  better  my  Fortune  as  other  folk  do  : 
Since  some  have  from  Ditches, 
And  course  Leather  Breeches, 
Been  rais'd,  been  rais'd  to  be  Rulers, 
And  wallow'd  in  Riches ; 

Prithee  come,  come,  come,  come  from  thy  Wheel, 
Prithee  come,  come,  come,  come  from  thy  Wheel, 
For  if  Gypsies  don't  lye, 
I  shall,  I  shall  be  a  Governor  too,  e're  I  dye. 

She.  Ah  !    Coffin  ah  !    Coffin,  by  all,  by  all  thy  late 

doings  I  find, 
With  sorrow  and  trouble,  with  sorrow  and  trouble 

the  pride  of  thy  Mind  : 
Our  Sheep  now  at  random  disorderly  run, 
And  now,  and  now  Sundays  Jacket  goes  every 

day  on ; 
Ah !  what  dost  thou,  what  dost  thou,  what  dost 

thou  mean  ? 

He.  To  make  my  Shooes  clean, 

And  foot  it,  and  foot  it  to  the  Court, 
To  the  King  and  the  Queen, 
Where  shewing  my  Parts  I  Preferment  shall  win. 

She 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  89 

She.  Fye,  fye,  fye,  fye,  fye,  fye,  fye,  fye,  fye,  fye,  'tis 

better, 

Tis  better  for  us  to  Plough  and  to  Spin  : 
For  as  to  the  Court  when  thou  happen'st  to  try, 
Thou'lt  find  nothing  got  there,  unless  thou  can'st 

Buy; 
For  Money,  the  Devil,  the  Devil  and  all's  to  be 

found, 
But  no  good  Parts  minded,  no,  no,  no,  no  good 

Parts  minded  without  the  good  Pound. 

He.  Why  then  Tie  take  Arms,  why  then   I'le  take 

Arms,  I'le  take  Arms, 
And  follow,  and  follow  Alarms, 
Hunt  Honour,  that  now  a-days  plaguily  charms  : 

She.  And  so  lose  a  Limb,  by  a  Shot  or  a  Blow, 

And  curse  thy  self  after,  for  leaving,  for  leaving 
the  Plough. 

He.  Suppose  I  turn  Gamester? 
She.  So  Cheat  and  be  Bang'd : 
He.  What  think'st  of  the  Road  then  ? 
She.  The  High-way  to  be  Hang'd ; 

He.  Nice  Pimping  however  yields  Profit  for  Life, 
I'le  help  some  fine  Lord  to  another's  fine  Wife  : 

She.  That's  dangerous  too,  amongst  the  Town  Crew, 
For  some  of  'em  will  do  the  same  thing  by  you  ; 
And  then  I  to  Cuckold  ye  may  be  drawn  in, 
Faith,  Collin,  'tis  better  I  sit  here  and  Spin, 
Faith,  Collin,  'tis  better  I  sit  here  and  Spin. 

He.  Will  nothing  Prefer  me,  what  think'st  of  the  Law  ? 

She.  Oh  !  while  you  live,  Collin,  keep  out  of  that  Paw  : 

He 


90  SONGS  Compleat, 

He.  I'le  Cant  and  Tie  Pray. 

She.  Ah  !  there's  nought  got,  ah !  there's  nought  got 

that  way, 
There's  no  one  minds  now  what  those  black  Cattle 

say; 

Let  all  our  whole  care,  be  our  Farming  Affair, 
To  make  our  Corn  grow,  and  our  Apple-Trees 

bear. 

[Verse for  Two  Voices.'] 

Ambition,  Ambition's  a  Trade,  a  Trade  no  Con 
tentment  can  show, 

She.  So  I'le  to  my  Distaff; 
He.  And  I  to  my  Plough ; 

Ambition,  Ambition's  a  Trade,  a  Trade  no  Con 
tentment  can  show, 

No,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no, 

no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no 
Contentment  can  show, 

no,  no,  no  Contentment  can  show. 

CHORUS. 

She.  Let  all  our  whole  care,  be  our  Farming  Affair; 

To  make  our  Corn  grow  and  our  Apple-Trees  J3ear: 
Ambition,  Ambitioris  a  Trade,  a  Trade  no   Con 
tentment  can  show. 

She.  So  Pie  to  my  Distaff; 
He.  And  Pie  to  my  Plough; 

Ambition,  Ambition's  a  Trade,  a  Trade  no  Con 
tentment  can  show, 

No,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no, 
no,  no, 

no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no  Con 
tentment  can  show, 

No,  no,  no  Contentment  can  show. 

A 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


A  Humerous  SONG,  Sung  at  Mary  the 
Buxom's  Wedding,  in  my  Play  of  Don 
Quixote. 


/^Ome  all,  great,  small,  short,  tall,  away  to  Stoolball ; 


y&£»i         =^P== 
zBEEEEEE:        EfcHE 


Down  in  a  Vale  on  a  Summers  day,  all  the  Lads  and 


Lasses  met  to  be  Merry,  a  match  for  Kisses  at 


Stoolball  play,  and  for  Cakes  and  Ale,  and  Sider  and 


Perry.  JF///  and  Tiwrc, 


',  Sue,  Bess  and  J^//,with  Hodge,  and  Briget, 

and 


SONGS  Compleat, 


'  H 


and  fames,  and  Nancy;  but  when  plump  .S 


Ball  in  her  Mutton  Fist,  once  fretted,  she'd  hit  it 


farther  than  any;  Running,  Haring,  Gaping,  Staring 


Reaching,  Stooping,  Hollowing, Whooping;  Sun  a 


setting,  all  thought  fitting,  by  consent  to  rest  'em 


Hall  got  Sue,    and    .A?//  got  ^T^,  all  took  by 

turns 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


93 


turns  their  Lasses  and  Buss'd  'em.  Jolly  Ralph  was 


*_  ft — ,_,t_ 

~ts — ^ 

H-V — ^ — /    ^ 


in  with  Peg,  tho'  freckl'd  like  a  Turkey  Egg,  and 


^^^^^ 


she  as  right  as  is  my  Leg,  still  gave  him  leave  to 


towze  her.  Harry  then  to  Katy,  swore,  her  Duggs  were 


pretty,  tho'  they  were  all  sweaty,  and  large  as  any 


Cows  are.  7c?w  Melancholy  was  with  his  Lass  ;  for 

Sue 


94 


SONGS  Com 


Sue    do  what  e'er  he  cou'd,  wou'd  not  note  him. 


— ^-*-J— a— d— 9-    333:3= 


Some  had  told  her,  b'ing  a  Soldier     in     a    Party, 


0 «_ Q — \IA.        . B « *  — 


with   Mac-car ty    at  the  Siege  QiLimrick,  he  was 


wounded  in  the  Scrotum.    But  the  cunning  Philly 


was  more  kind  to  Willy,    who  of  all  their  Ally, 


was  the  ablest  Ringer;  He  to  carry  on  the  Jest,  be 
gins 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive. 


95 


— gins  a  Bumper  to  the  best,  and  winks  at  her  of 


NT 


all  the  rest,  and  squeez'd  her  by  the  Finger.    Then 


-,*-  ^ 


yt 


wentthe  Glasses  round,  then  went  the  Lasses  down,  each 


Lad  did  his  Sweet-heart  own,  and  on  the  Grass  did 


fling  her.     Come     all,     great  small,    short,    tall, 


a  -  way  to  Stool  Ball. 


The 


96  SONGS  Compleat, 

The  STORM  : 

Set  to  Music  by  Mr.  Henry  Purcell.      To 
be  found  in  his  Orph.  Britt. 

T)  Low,  blow  Boreas,  blow,  and  let  thy  surly  Winds 
O     Make  the  Billows  foam  and  roar  ; 
Thou  can'st  no  Terror  breed  in  valiant  Minds, 
But  spight  of  thee  we'll  live,  but  spight  of  thee  we'll 
live  and  find  a  Shoar. 

Then  cheer  my  Hearts,  and  be  not  aw'd, 

but  keep  the  Gun-Room  cleer ; 
Tho'  Hell's  broke  loose,  and  the  Devils  roar  abroad, 

Whilst  we  have  Sea-room  here  : 

Boys,  never  fear,  never,  never  fear. 

Hey  !  how  she  tosses  up  !  how  far, 

The  mounting  Top-mast  touch'd  a  Star ; 

The  Meteors  blaz'd,  as  thro'  the  Clouds  we  came, 

And  Salamander-like,  we  live  in  Flame ; 

But  now,  now  we  sink,  now,  now  we  go 

Down  to  the  deepest  Shades  below. 

Alas  !  alas  !  where  are  we  now !  who,  who  can  tell ! 

Sure  'tis  the  lowest  Room  of  Hell, 

Or  where  the  Sea-Gods  dwell : 

With  them  we'll  live,  with  them  we'll  live  and  reign, 

With  them  we'll  laugh,  and  sing,  and  drink  amain, 

With  them  we'll  laugh,  and  sing,  and  drink  amain, 

But  see  we  mount,  see,  see  we  rise  again. 

[Second  Movement^ 

Thd flashes  of  Lightning,  and  Tempests  of  Rain, 
Do  fiercely  contend  which  shall  conquer  the  Main  ; 
Tho1  the  Captain  does  swear,  instead  of  a  Pray'r, 
And  the  Sea  is  all  Fire  by  the  Damons  o'  tft  Air; 
We'll  drink  and  defie,  we'll  drink  and  defie 
The  mad  Spirits  that  fly  from  the  Deep  to  the  Sky, 

That 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


97 


That  fly,  fly,  from  the  Deep  to  the  Sky, 

And  sing  whilst  loud  Thunder,  and  sing  whilst  loud 

Thunder  does  bellow  ; 

For  Fate  will  still  have,  a  kind  Fate  for  the  Brave, 
And  ne're  make  his  Grave  of  a  Salt-water  Wave, 
To  drown,  to  drown,  no,  never  to  drown  a  good  Fellow ; 
No,  never,  no,  never  to  drown  a  good  Fellow  ; 
No,  never,  never  to  drown,  no,  never,  never  to  drown  a 

good  Fellow, 
No,  never,  no,  never  to  drown  a  good  Fellow. 


A  Poole  at  Piquette.  The  Words  made, 
and  set  to  a  Time  by  Mr.  D'Urfey  ;  made 
at  Ramsbury  Mannor. 


VOL.  I. 


SONGS  Compleat, 


T  T  7Ithin  an  Arbour  of  Delight, 
V  V       As  sweet  as  Bowers  Elisian, 
Where  famous  Sidney  us'd  to  write, 

I  lately  had  a  Vision ; 
Methought  beneath  a  Golden  State, 

The  Turns  of  Chance  obeying, 
Six  of  the  World's  most  noted  great, 

At  Piquette  were  a  playing. 

The  first  two  were  the  brave  Eugene, 

With  Vendosme  Battle  waging, 
The  next  a  Nymph,  who  to  be  Queen, 

Her  Mounsieur  was  engaging  : 
The  Fleur  de-lis,  old  Maintenon, 

With  sanctified  Carero  ; 
And  next  above  the  scarlet  Don> 

Queen  Anne,  and  Gallick  Nero. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  99 

The  Game  between  the  Martial  braves 

Was  held  in  diff'rent  Cases, 
The  Frenchman  got  Quatorze  of  Knaves, 

But  Prince  Eugene  four  Aces  : 
And  tho'  the  'tothers  eldest  Hand 

Gave  Hopes  to  make  a  Jest  on't, 
Yet  now  the  Point  who  soonest  gain'd, 

Could  only  get  the  best  on't. 

From  them  I  turn'd  mine  Eyes  to  see 

The  Churchman  and  the  Lady, 
And  found  her  pleas'd  to  high  degree, 

Her  fortune  had  been  steady  ; 
The  Saints  that  cram'd  the  Spanish  Purse, 

She  hop'd  would  all  oblige  her, 
For  he  had  but  a  little  Terse, 

When  she  produced  Quint-Major. 

But  now  betwixt  the  King  and  Queen 

An  Empire  was  depending, 
Within  whose  mighty  Game  was  seen 

The  Art  of  State-contending  : 
The  Mounsieur  had  three  Kings  to  win't, 

And  was  o'er  Europe  roaming, 
But  her  full  Point,  Quatorze  and  Quint, 

Won  all,  and  left  him  foaming. 


H  2 


ioo 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  Dialogue  between  Mr.  Pack  and  Mrs. 
Bradshaw,  in  the  Opera  called,  The 
Kingdom  of  the  Birds. 


-F-F-F- 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  101 


j^g^ 


OH  Love  if  a  God  thou  wilt  be, 
Do  Justice  in  Favour  of  me 
For  yonder  approaching  I  see 

A  Man  with  a  Beard, 

Who  as  I  have  heard, 

Has  often  undone 

Poor  Maids  that  have  none, 

With  sighing,  and  toying, 

And  crying,  and  lying, 
And  such  kind  of  Foolery. 

Fair  Maid  by  your  Leave, 

My  Heart  does  receive 

Strange  Pleasure  to  meet  you  here, 

Pray  tremble  not  so, 

Nor  offer  to  go, 
I'll  do  ye  no  Harm,  I  swear, 
I'll  do  ye  no  Harm,  I  swear. 

My  Mother  is  spinning  at  Home, 
My  Father  works  hard  at  his  Loom, 
And  we  here  a  milking  are  come, 

Their  Dinner  they  want, 

Pray  Gentlemen  don't 

Make  more  ado  on't, 

Nor  give  us  Affront, 

We're  none  of  the  Town 

Will  lie  down  for  a  Crown, 
Then  away,  Sir,  and  give  us  Room. 

By 


IO2  SONGS  Compleat, 

He.  By  Phoebus,  by  Jove, 
By  Honour,  by  Love, 
I'll  do  ye  dear  sweet  no  harm, 

Y're  as  fresh  as  a  Rose, 

I  want  one  of  those, 
Ah,  how  such  a  Wife  would  charm, 
Ah,  how  such  a  Wife  would  charm. 

She.     And  can  you  then  like  the  old  Rule, 
Be  Conjugal,  honest,  and  dull, 
And  marry,  and  look  like  a  Fool, 
For  I  must  be  plain. 
All  Tricks  are  in  vain, 
There's  nothing  can  gain 
The  Thing  you'd  obtain, 
But  moving,  and  proving, 
By  Wedding,  true  Loving, 
My  lesson  I  learnt  at  School. 

He.     I'll  do't  by  this  Hand, 
I've  Houses,  I've  Land, 
Estate  too  in  good  Free-hold, 

My  Dear,  let  us  joyn, 

It  all  shall  be  thine, 
Besides  a  good  Purse  of  Gold. 

She.    You  make  me  to  blush,  now  I  vow, 
Oh  Lord,  shall  I  too  baulk  my  Cow, 
But  since  the  late  Oath  you  have  swore, 
Your  Soul  shall  not  be, 
In  danger  for  me, 
I'll  rather  agree, 
Of  two  to  make  three, 
We'll  Wed,  and  we'll  Bed, 
There's  no  more  to  be  said, 
And  I'll  ne'er  go  a  Milking  more. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


103 


The  British  Muses  an  ODE,  occasion  d  by 
the  Hearing  of  Five  fine  Ladys  at  a  Man 
of  Quality  s  House  in  the  Country,  play  ing 
a  Sonata  in  Consort. 


104 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A    S  the  Delian  God,  to  fam'd  Halcyon, 
J^\    From  Heavens  high  Court  descended  down, 
There  the  Tuneful  Musts  playing  he  found, 

A  Sonata  Divinely  rare  : 
When  Thalia  touch'd  the  charming  Flute, 
Errato  Struck  the  warbling  Lute ; 
And  Clio's  Treble  joining  to't, 

Made  the  Harmony  beyond  compare. 

Then  EuterpJs  full  Bass,  the  sweet  Consort  did  raise, 

And  with  pleasure  each  Sence  alarm'd, 

E'ry  Note  was  enjoy 'd,  e'ry  Hand  was  imploy'd, 

With  sounds  of  Joy  the  Flowery  Valley  rung  : 

Apollo  gaz'd,  and  silent  was  his  Tongue, 

But  when  his  dear  Calliope  Sung, 

Ah,  then  the  God  was  charm'd. 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  105 


A  SONG  in  the  Modern  Prophets. 


gg=MsM=fe=g=-sg| 


1 06  SONGS  Compleat, 


WE  Prophets  of  the  Modern  Race, 
To  hide  rebellious  Evil, 
Pretend  we  all  excel  in  Grace, 
And  fight  against  the  Devil : 
We  range,  we  roam,  we  quake,  we  foam, 

We  breed  by  Inspiration, 
We  own  the  Call  the  Spirit  moves, 
And  then  the  chosen  Sister  proves 
By  frequent  Agitation. 

Strange  Miracles  we  ne'er  unfold, 

We  scorn  to  understand  'em, 
Those  shewn  the  Mob  in  Days  of  Old, 

Provok'd,  but  did  not  mend  'em ; 
We  Cant  in  Tone, 
We  sigh,  we  groan, 

Nor  do  our  Whimseys  tire  us ; 
And  tho'  our  Preaching  be  hum  drum, 
And  writing  senseless  as  Tom  Thumb, 

We  still  have  Fools  admire  us. 


An 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  107 


An  Epithalamium  on  the  Marriage  of  the 
Honourable  Charles  Leigh. 


io8 


SONGS  Compleat, 


DRaw,  draw  the  Curtain,  fye,  make  hast, 
The  panting  Lovers  long  to  be  alone, 
The  precious  Time  no  more  in  talking  wast, 

There's  better  Business  going  on  : 
Our  Absence  will  their  Wishes  crown, 
The  next  swift  Moment's  not  too  soon, 
Our  artful  Song  sounds  like  a  Drone, 
For  now  all  Musick,  but  their  own, 
Is  harsh,  and  out  of  Tune. 

Now  Love  inflames  the  Bridegroom's  Heart, 
How  weak,  how  poor  a  Charmer  is  the  Flute  ; 

And  when  the  Bride's  fair  Eyes  her  Wishes  dart, 
How  dully  sounds  the  warbling  Lute. 

If  this  Divine,  harmonious  Bliss 
Attends  each  happy  Marriage  Day, 

Who  such  a  blessed  State  would  miss, 

And  such  a  charming  Tune  as  this, 

Who  would  not  learn  to  play  ? 

Oh,  Joy  too  fierce  to  be  exprest, 

Thou  sweet  Atoner  of  Life's  greatest  Pain, 
By  thee  are  Men  with  Love's  dear  Treasure  blest, 

And  Women  still  by  losing  gain. 
Smile  then  divine,  propitious  Pow'rs, 

Upon  this  Pair  let  Blessings  flow, 
Let  Care  mix  with  their  Sweets,  not  Sowers, 
But  may  succeeding  Days  and  Hours 

Be  charming  all  as  now. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  109 

A  New  DIALOGUE  :  Set  by  Mr.  Henry  Pur- 
cell,  Sung  by  a  Boy  and  Girl  at  the  Play 
house. 

He.   (~^Elemene,  pray  tell  me, 

V^   Pray,  pray  tell  me  Celemene, 

When  those  pretty,  pretty,  pretty  Eyes  I  see, 

Why  my  Heart  beats,  beats,  beats,  beats  in  my 
Breast, 

Why,  why  it  will  not,  it  will  not,  why,  why,  it 
will  not  let  me  rest : 

Why  this  trembling,  why  this  trembling  too  all 
o'er? 

Pains  I  never,  pains  I  never,  never,  never  felt  be 
fore  : 

And  when  thus  I  touch,  when  thus  I  touch  your 
hand, 

Why  I  wish,  I  wish,  I  wish,  I  was  a  Man  ? 
She.  How  shou'd  I  know  more  than  you  ? 

Yet  wou'd  be  a  Woman  too. 

When  you  wash  your  self  and  play, 

I  methinks  could  look  all  day ; 

Nay,  just  now,  nay,  just  now  am  pleas'd,  am 
pleas'd  so  well, 

Shou'd  you,  shou'd  you  kiss  me,  I  won't  tell, 

Shou'd  you,  shou'd  you  kiss  me,  I  won't  tell. 

No,  no  I  won't  tell,  no,  no  I  won't  tell,  no,  no  I 
won't  tell, 

Shou'd  you  kiss  me  I  won't  tell. 
He.  Tho'  I  cou'd  do  that  all  day, 

And  desire  no  better  play  : 

Sure,  sure  in  Love  there's  something  more, 

Which  makes  Mamma  so  bigg,  so  bigg  before. 
She.  Once  by  chance  I  hear'd  it  nam'd, 

Don't  ask  what,  don't  ask  what,  for  I'm  asham'd : 

Stay  but  till  you're  past  Fifteen, 

Then  you'll  know,  then,  then  you'll  know  what 
'tis  I  mean, 

Then 


no  SONGS  Compleat, 

Then  you'll  know  what,  then  you'll  know,  what 

'tis  I  mean. 

He.  However,  lose  not  present  bliss, 
But  now  we're  alone,  let's  kiss  : 
But  now  we're  alone  let's  kiss,  let's  kiss. 
She.  My  Breasts  do  so  heave,  so  heave,  so  heave, 
He.  My  Heart  does  so  pant,  pant,  pant ; 
She.  There's  Something,  something,  something  more 

we  want, 

There's  Something,  something,  something  more 
we  want. 


The  Happy  Country  Gentleman  ; 
a  New  SONG. 

The  Words  made  to  a  pretty  Italian  Air: 
Simg  by  Nicolini,  in  the  opera  tf/Rinaldo. 
//  tricerbero  humiliate,  &c. 

A   LL  the  World's  in  Strife  and  hurry, 

j£\_    And  the  Lord  knows  when  'twill  cease ; 

Some  for  Interest,  some  for  Glory, 
Tho'  their  Tongues  run  all  of  Peace  : 

Since  the  High-Church  then  and  Low, 

Make  our  daily  Mischiefs  grow, 

And  the  Great,  who  sit  at  the  Helm  in  doubt, 

Are  not  sure,  how  quickly  they  may  turn  out : 
How  blest  is  the  happy  he, 

Who  from  Town,  and  the  Faction  that   is  there,  is 
free; 

For  Love  and  no  ill  ends, 
Treats  his  Neighbours  and  his  Friends, 
He  shall  ever  in  the  Book  of  Fame, 
Fix  with  Honour  a  glorious  Name. 

He  that  was  the  High  Purse-bearer, 
At  his  Levy  no  Crowds  you  see ; 

He 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  1 1 1 

He  that  was  the  Grand  Cause  hearer, 

Now  no  longer  makes  Decree  : 
Nay,  to  prove  her  wavering  evil, 
And  that  Fortune  is  the  Devil, 
The  Hero  leading  our  Arms  abroad, 
Whom  they  late  did  Celebrate  like  a  God, 
Scarce  has  any  to  Drink  his  Health, 
If  a  Friend  does  not  kindly  put  it  round  by  stealth  ; 

A  Whig%  is  out  of  grace, 

And  a  Tory  in  his  place  : 
Riddles  all,  and  something  is  amiss, 
What  a  Whimsical  world  is  this. 


A  Pindar ick  ODE,  on  New  Years- Day : 
Perform  d  by  Vocal  and  Instrumental 
Musick,  before  their  Sacred  Majesties 
King  WILLIAM  and  Queen  MARY.  Set 
by  Dr.  John  Blow. 

IT)  EHOLD,  how  all  the  stars  give  way ; 
L)   Behold,  how  the  Revolving  Sphere, 
Swells  to  bring  forth  the  Sacred  Day, 

That  ushers  in  the  mighty  Year ; 
Whilst  Janus  with  his  double  Face 
Viewing  the  present  Time  and  past, 
In  strong  Prophetick  Fury  sings, 
Our  Nation's  Glory  and  our  King's. 

See  England's  Genius,  like  the  dazling  Sun, 

Proud  of  his  Race,  to  our  Horizon  run 

To  welcome  that  Ccelestial  Power, 

That  of  this  Glorious  Year  begins  the  Happy  Hour  : 
A  Year  from  whence  shall  Wonders  come  ;  } 
A  Year  to  baffle  France  and  Rome,  [ 

And  bound  the  dubious  Fate  of  Warring  Christen-  ( 
dom.  ) 

Move 


H2  SONGS  Compleat, 

Move  on  with  Fame,  all  ye  Triumphant  Days, 

To  Britain's  Honour,  and  to  Ccesar's  Praise ; 

Let  no  short  Hour  of  this  Year's  bounded  Time, 

Pass  by  without  some  Act  sublime  : 

Great  William,  Champion  of  the  Mighty  States, 

And  all  the  Princes  the  Confederates  : 

Ploughs  the  Green  Neptune,  whilst  to  waft  Him  o'er, 

The  Fates  stand  smiling  on  the  Belgick  Shore ; 
And  now  the  Gallick  Genius  Trembles, 
How  e'er  she  Pannick  Fear  dissembles ; 

To  know  the  Mighty  League,  and  view  the  Mighty 
Pow'r : 

So  when  the  Persian  Pride  of  old, 
Disdain'd  their  God  the  Sun, 

With  Armies,  and  more  powerful  Gold, 
Did  half  the  World  o'er  run, 

Brave  Alexander  chang'd  their  Scorn  to  Awe, 

And  came  and  fought,  and  Conquer'd  like  Nassau. 

Then  welcome  Wondrous  Year, 

More  Happy  and  Serene, 
Than  any  ever  did  appear, 

To  bless  Great  Ccesar  and  his  Queen  : 
May  every  Hour  encrease  their  Fames  ; 
Whilst  Ecchping  Skies  resound  their  Names  : 
And  when  Unbounded  Joy,  and  the  Excess  ) 
Of  all  that  can  be  found  in  Human  Bliss, 
Fall  on  'em,  may  each  Year  be  still  like  this,  I 
Health,  Fortune,  Granduer,  Fame,  and  Victory, 
And  Crowning  all,  a  Life,  long  as  Eternity. 

CHORUS. 

Come  ye  Sons  of  Great  Apollo, 
Let  your  Charming  Consorts  follow  ; 
Sing  of  Triumph,  sing  of  Beauty, 
Sing  soft  Ay  res  of  Loyal  Duty  ; 
Give  to  CsesarV  Royal  Fair, 
Songs  of  Joy  to  Calm  her  Care; 
Bid  the  less  Auspicious  Year  Adieu, 
And  give  her  joyful  Welcomes  to  the  New. 

The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  1 1 3 

The  first  SONG  in  the  first  Part  of  Massa- 
niello,  Sung  by  Mr.  Pate,  Representing 
Fate. 

FRom  Azure  Plains,  blest  with  Eternal  day, 
Celestial  flow'ry  Groves,  that  ne'er  decay  ; 
From  Lucid  Rocks  that  Sol's  bright  Rays  let  in, 
Where,  with  unclouded  Brow, 
I  sate  and  view'd  the  deeps  below, 
And  saw  my  Female  drudges  Spin  ; 
I  Fate  am  come,  thy  Courage  to  improve, 
Tis  the  Eternal's  Doom,  Engrav'd  in  Adamant  above  ; 
And  oh  !  thou  drowzy  Deity, 
That  dost  in  slumbers  bind, 
The  Body  of  Mortality, 

And  calm  the  Stormy  Mind  \ 
No  more,  no  more  his  Brain  possess, 
With  the  soft  charm  of  gentle  Peace, 
He  must  awake  to  bloody  Wars, 
Unbounded  Fury,  civil  Jars, 
And  is  by  Heav'ns  decree  for  wonderous  deeds  design'd. 

St.  Genaro,  Protector  of  Naples,  descends 
and  Sings. 

St.  Gen.     Tho'  mighty  Fate  all  must  obey, 

And  conq'ring  Hero's  greatest  King, 

Amongst  the  rest  of  human  things, 
Yield  to  his  dreadful  sway ; 
Yet  view  thy  Book  of  Dooms  once  more, 
Thou  there  wilt  find  one  happy  hour, 
When  Naples  shall  be  free  from  Rebel  power, 

'Tis  sure  as  the  revolving  year, 

And  I  her  darling  Saint  appear 
To  stop  thy  fury,  least  it  should  exceed, 
And  tell  thee  tho'  permission  of  this  ill 
Is  sacred  mystery,  and  th'  Eternal's  Will ; 
Yet  he  that  does  the  deed, 
For  doing  it,  must  bleed.  Ascends. 

VOL.  i.  i  Who 


H4  SONGS  Compleat, 

Fate.     Hear  each  Neighbouring  Destiny. 

Who  the  Souls  of  Mortals  free, 
Hear  my  Voice  and  straight  obey, 

Heaven  Commands,  the  Work  must  stay. 

Such  a  number,  and  no  more,  \ 

Must  Encrease  your  fatal  store, 

And  he  must  die  the  task  being  o'er ;  j 
Remember  all  'tis  so  decreed, 
That  he  that  does  this  mighty  deed, 
For  doing  it  must  bleed. 


An  ODE  on  the  Assembly  of  the  Nobility  and 
Gentry  of  the  City  and  Coimty  0/York, 
at  the  Anniversary  Feast,  March  the  2  yth. 
1690.  Set  to  Mustek  by  Mr.  Henry 
Purcell.  Oneof  the  finest  Compositions  he 
ever  made,  and  cost  lool.  the  performing. 

OF  Old,  when  Heroes  thought  it  base 
To  be  confin'd  to  Native  Air, 
And  Glory  brought  a  Martial  Race, 

To  breath  their  towring  Eagles  here, 
The  Sons  of  Fam'd  *Brigantium  stood 
Disputing  Freedom  with  their  blood  ; 
Undaunted  at  the  Purple  flood, 
Brigantium  honour'd  with  a  Race  Divine ; 
Gave  Birth  to  the  Victorious  Constantine. 
Whose  Colony  whilst  Planted  there, 
With  blooming  Glories  still  renew'd  the  Year, 
The  bashful  Thames  for  Beauty  so  renown'd, 
In  hast  ran  by  her  Puny  Town ; 
And  poor  \Augusta  was  asham'd  to  own. 
Augusta  then  did  drooping  lye, 
Though  now  she  rears  her  towring  front  so  high, 
*  York.  Anciently  so  cattd.         f  London. 

The 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  115 

The  Pale  and  Purple  *  Rose,  *  The  Houses 

That  after  cost  so  many  Blows  of  York,  and 

When  English  Barons  fought ;  Lancaster. 

A  Prize  too  dearly  bought : 

By  the  fam'd  Worthies  of  that  Shire, 

Still  best  by  Sword  and  Shield  defended  were. 

And  in  each  Tract  of  Glory  since, 

For  their  Lov'd  Country  and  their  Prince ; 

Princes  that  hate  Rome's  Slavery, 

And  join  the  Nations  Right  with  their  own  Royalty, 

None  were  more  ready  in  distress  to  save, 

None  were  more  Loyal,  none  more  Brave. 

And  now  when  the  Renown'd  Nassau 

Came  to  restore  our  Liberty  and  Law, 

The  work  so  well  perform'd  and  done, 

They  were  the  first  begun  ; 

They  did  no  storms  or  threatenings  fear, 

Of  Thunder  in  the  grumbling  Air, 

Or  any  Revolutions  near : 

The  Noble  work  large  hopes  of  freedom  told, 

Freedom  Inspir'd  their  minds  and  made  'em  bold, 

And  gave  them  English  Hearts  like  those  of  Old, 

To  welcome  their  Redeemer  when  he  came, 

Whose  Vertue  and  whose  Fame, 
Made  our  long  smother'd  Joys  burst  into  brighter  flame. 
So  when  the  Glittering  Queen  of  Night, 
With  black  Eclipse  is  shadow'd  o're, 

The  Globe  that  swells  with  sullen  Pride, 

Her  dazling  Charms  to  hide, 

Does  but  a  little  time  abide, 
And  then  each  Ray  is  brighter  than  before, 

CHORUS  of  all. 

Let  Musickjoyn  in  a  Chorus  Divine, 
In  praise  of  all,  of  all,  of  all, 
That  Celebrate,  that  Celebrate, 
This  Glorious  Festival. 
Sound  Trumpets  sound,  beat  every  Drum, 
Till  it  be  known  through  Christendom ; 

i  2  This 


1 1 6  SONGS  Compleat, 

This  is  the  Knell  of  falling  Rome, 

To  him  that  our  Mighty  Defender  has  been, 

Sound  all, 
And  to  all  the  Heroes  invited  him  in, 

Sound  all, 

And  as  the  chief  Agents  of  this  Royal  Work, 
Long  flourish  the  City  and  County  of  York. 


VIVE  le  ROY. 

The   Poet's  humble  Address  to  the  King. 
The  Words  made  to  a  pleasant  Tune. 

"XT  OW  over  England  Joy  to  express, 

j^      Sing,  sing  vive  le  Roy  ; 

The  Town  and  the  Countrys  have  made  an  Address, 

And  sing  vive  le  Roy. 
For  Loyalty  many,  and  many  for  Place ; 

True  Hearts  duty  employ, 

Whiggs,  now  Publish  your  Joy  ; 
High-Church  and  Low- Church, 
The  True  Church,  and  No  Church, 

All  Sing,  sing  vive  le  Roy, 

All  Sing  vive  le  Roy. 

A  Glorious  Feast  Great  Britain  may  boast, 

Sing,  sing  vive  le  Roy  ; 
Where  since  Royal  George,  Treat  us  all  at  his  cost, 

Who  sing  vive  le  Roy  : 

The  Muses  'tis  hop't,  may  have  share  of  the  roast, 
Sound,  sound  far  as  the  Sky  ; 
Fame,  fame  never  to  dye, 
For  the  Cause  Royal,  Obedient  and  Loyal : 
They  Sing,  sing  vive  le  Roy, 
All  Sing  &c. 

Poets 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  117 

Poets  affirm  to  fix  their  renown, 

Sing,  sing  vive  le  Roy  ; 
In  all  Revolutions,  some  up  and  some  down, 

Sing,  sing  vive  le  Roy : 

Not  one  out  of  Forty,  was  false  to  the  Crown, 
Rare,  rare  carols  of joy ; 
Bear,  bear  fancys  on  high, 
Common-wealth  haters,  Abhorring  all  Traitors  : 

They  sing,  sing  vive  le  Roy, 

All  sing  &c. 

Humours  go  round  the  Town  at  each  meal, 

Sing,  sing  vive  le  Roy ; 
And  if  we  in  Wit,  as  in  Metals  may  deal, 

Sing,  sing  vive  le  Roy : 

Tho'  some  are  of  Lead,  yet  the  best  are  in  Steel, 
Round,  round  Europe  they  fly  ; 
Wide,  wide  Nations  supply, 
Loyal  Spectators,  with  Morals  and  Satyrs  : 

Still  sing,  sing  vive  le  Roy, 

Sing,  sing  6°<r. 

If  the  wise  Members  ripe  for  a  Fray, 

Would  Sing  vive  le  Roy ; 
And  take  my  Advice  in  a  moderate  way, 

Or  sing  vive  le  Roy  : 

Chuse  quiet  two  Bottles,  and  three  Meals  a  day, 
No  more  Strife  would  destroy, 
No  more  Malice  supply  ; 
Virulent  stories,  the   Whiggs,  and  the  Tories, 

Would  end  all,  vive  le  Roy, 

All,  all  <Srv. 

But  if  vile  humours  lasting  and  long, 

Wont  sing  vive  le  Roy; 
Both  sides  to  support  it,  with  Libel  that's  strong, 

To  sing  vive  le  Roy : 

Must 


i  [8  SONGS  Compleat, 

Must  hire  Tom  D'urfey  to  make  a  smart  Song, 

Where,  where,  as  ii\  a  glass, 

They'll  see  plainly  each  face  ; 
Lyrick,  and  Crambo,  to  vy  d  de  Gambo, 
Would  soon  sing,  &c. 

Thus  mighty  Sir,  thus  finishing  all, 

Sing,  sing  vive  le  Roy  ; 
I  wish  you  long  Life,  and  your  Fame  to  extol, 

And  sing  vive  le  Roy  : 
You'd  throw  down  Mardyke,  and  you'd  build  up 

Whitehall, 

Hark,  hark  Muses  on  high, 
Chant  loud  Carols  of  Joy  : 
Britain's  Reliever,  Reign  o're  us  for  ever, 

And  long,  long  vive  le 

Long,  long  vive  le  Roy. 


A  New  SONG  on  the  late  Peace,  and  the  pre 
sent  turn  of  Times.  The  Words  made  to 
a  pretty  Playhouse  Tune. 

NOw  some  Years  are  gone, 
Since  you  saw  Apollo  smiling, 
Britain's  cares  exiling ; 
When  the  Dove  was  flown  : 
To  crop  the  Branch,  the  sign  of  Peace, 
Then  flew  o're  the  Nation, 
A  Royal  Proclamation ; 
Human  gore, 
Should  flow  no  more, 
Nor  Crimson  o're, 
The  Flemish  shore  : 
All  hated  feuds  abroad,  should  ever  cease, 

{Second 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  119 

[Second  Movement.'] 

Above  twenty  Years  did  France  oppose, 
With  hopes  of  Empire  blinded  ; 

Castile,  to  frighted  Peace  with  blows, 
Tho'  now  they  think  fit  to  mind  it : 

The  Hogan  that  plunder'd  our  Fishing  before, 
Tho'  grumbling  agreed  to  secure  his  gain  : 

And  the  greedy  Spread-Eagle  that  gap'd  to  have 
Spain 

At  last  too  was  forc'd  to  come  o'er. 

But  if  this  sham  Peace  do  at  last  bring 
France  upon  us ; 
High-Church  has  undone  us, 
That  caused  War  to  cease  : 
Had  ruin'd  else  the  Mounsieur  quite  : 
Then  if  Forces  slender, 

Can  bring  in  the  P r : 

Waft  him  here, 
Thro'  plains  of  Air, 
And  turn  the  State, 
In  spight  of  Fate  : 
You  may  affirm,  the  Tories  plotted  right. 

[  Third  Movement.  ] 

But  let  Royal  George  live  long  in  Health, 

He'll  prop  the  sinking  Nation  ; 
If  Peace  don't  bring  us  Fame  and  Wealth, 

Mardyke  shall  have  small  Cessation  : 
Our  Council  are  wise,  and  their  Policy  sure, 

That  against  all  our  fears,  will  our  Rights  maintain  ; 
By  Marlborough's  Arms,  and  the  Chancellors  Brain, 
Our  Country  shall  still  be  Secure. 


The 


1 20  SONGS  Compleat, 

The  Coronation  HEALTH  ;  the  Words  made 
to  a  pretty  new  Tune. 

GReat  Casar  is  Crown'd, 
To  the  Skies  let  it  sound  ; 

Tho'  the  Tories i  the  Tories^  the  Tories,  the  Tories 
With  Malice,  do  grumble  and  lower  : 
Whilst  Whiggs  raise  their  Joys, 
With  a  general  Voice  j 

And  with  Boo,  huzza  boo,  huzza  boo,  huzza, 
The  great  Cannon  go  off  at  the  Tower. 

Prince  Wallia  along, 
Gave  such  Grace  through  the  throng  \ 
That  you'd  fancy,  you'd  fancy,  you'd  fancy,  you'd  fancy, 
Some  God  had  descended  : 
His  Goddess  look'd  on, 
And  with  joy  heard  each  Gun  ; 
Give  a  boo,  huzza  a  boo,  huzza  a  boo,  huzza, 
By  her  brace  of  young  Angels  attended. 

Then  fill  Glasses  high, 
For  methinks  I  am  dry, 

'Till  I'm  toping,  I'm  toping,  I'm  toping,  I'm  toping, 
Success  to  the  King  and  the  Nation  : 
'Twill  wit  too  Inspire, 
And  we'll  second  the  Fire ; 
Of  the  boo,  huzza  boo,  huzza  boo,  huzza, 
Never  was  a  more  Glorious  occasion. 


MUSIDORA 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  121 

MUSIDORA: 

A  New  SONG.     The  Words  made  to  a 
pretty  Scotch  Ay  re. 

OPening  Budds  began  to  shew 
The  Beauty  of  their  vernal  Treasure, 
Spring  had  routed  Frost  and  Snow, 

Obeying  flora's  Pleasure : 
Damon  by  a  River's  side, 
Whose  silver  Streams  did  gently  glide, 
Compar'd  his  Blessings  to  the  Tide, 
That  flow'd  beyond  all  Measure. 

Musidora  Fair  and  Young 

With  panting  Rapture  still  alarms  me, 
Motion,  Shape,  or  Charming  Tongue, 

All  raise  a  Flame  that  warms  me  : 
Eyes  excelling  Titan's  Ray; 
But  when  she's  most  divinely  gay, 
And  kindly  designs  to  sing  and  play, 
Oh  Venus  !  how  she  charms  me. 

Sylvia,  dearest  of  all  Dears, 

Charm'd  by  Nature  to  content  ye, 
In  her  Face  the  Figures  wears 

Of  Pleasure,  Joy,  and  Plenty  : 
Kindling  Hopes,  and  Doubts,  and  Fears, 
The  Young  inchants,  the  Old  she  chears, 
So  well  she  makes  dull  seventy  Years, 
Grow  brisk  as  Five  and  Twenty. 


On 


122  SONGS  Compleat, 

On  //^Warwickshire  Peers.  A  New  Sonnet. 
The  Words  made  to  a  pretty  Time. 

Ride  all  England  o'er, 
East  and  West,  South  or  Nore, 
And  try  every  British  Peer  ; 

The  Warwickshire  Lords 

Will  excel  what  affords, 
Any  other  remaining  Shire. 

Peer  Dm gh  is  kind, 

And  a  hearty  true  Friend, 
Lord  Cr n  the  same  we  know, 

He'll  still  hold  ye  to't, 

From  the  Dram  to  the  Flute, 
And  ne'er  give  ye  a  Hint  .to  go. 

North ton  of  Fame 

Should  have  first  here  a  Name, 
Whose  Deserts  great  Applause  have  gain'd, 

His  brave  Loyal  Race, 

To  their  Country  a  Grace, 
In  Old  Times  the  Crown's  Right  maintain'd : 

Lord  Brook  by  his  Choice 

Would  make  Warwick  re  Joyce, 
Would  his  Spleen  let  him  Harbour  there, 

But  since  that  plagues  his  Head, 

For  his  Cure  let  him  read 
*  Le  Malade  Imaginaire. 

Lord  Willoughby's  Old, 

But  couragious  and  bold, 
For  the  Rights  of  the  Church  and  Crown, 

Who  though  ninety  Odd, 

Was  freezing  his  Blood, 
For  the  Cause  would  rise  post  to.  Town  : 

But,  oh,  to  its  Shame, 

There  is  one  without  Name, 

*  A  Play  of  Molieres. 

Tho' 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  123 

Tho'  the  French  have  it  plain,  unfou, 

I  say  nought  of  his  Face, 

But  his  stigmatiz'd  Dress, 
You'll  find  is  a  Coventry  Blue. 

And  now  this  is  past, 
.  To  dear  Stonely  I  hast, 
That  its  Patron  my  Praise  may  share, 

Spite  do  what  it  can, 

He  that  looks  like  a  Man, 
May  still  find  a  Welcome  there  : 

The  Queen  still  goes  round, 

And  the  Warriours  renown'd, 
The  Church  too,  and  all  its  Sons, 

Who  cry,  let's  go  there, 

Some  good  News  we  shall  hear, 
Lord  Thomas  has  fir'd  his  Guns. 

Lord  Digby  of  late 

Is  so  wondrous  sedate, 
That  'tis  counted  a  kind  of  Crime, 

Condemn'd  to  his  house, 

Without  sometimes  a  Loose, 
He'd  be  sainted  before  his  time  j 

A  regular  Life, 

Free  from  Faction  and  Strife, 
Gains  Applause  still  amongst  the  Wise; 

But  who  shuns  all  Converse, 

Lives  as  'twere  in  a  Hearse, 
And  is  dead  now,  before  he  dies. 


The 


124  SONGS  Compleat, 


The  Brisk  COMPANION. 

Reflecting  on  the  Party  Humours  and  Dis 
course  0/WHIGG  and  TORY.  A  New 

SONG  ;   Written  in  the  Great  Snow.     The 
Words  made  to  a  pretty  New  Minuet. 

FLow  the  flowry  Rain, 
That  blanches  round  the  Plain, 
Filling  the  Hills  and  the  Dales  so  fast, 
Snow  will  soon  be  gone  ; 

Then,  then  the  vernal  Sun 
Brightly  will  right  ye 
From  Troubles  past, 
When  his  Glory  does  restore  me, 
Wine  his  Creature, 
Charms  my  Nature, 

Drink,  drink  then  to  the  Wise  and  Brave  ; 
Torys  raise  your  little  King, 
WhiggS)  let  all  the  Tories  swing, 
I,  a  Club  more  brisk  will  have. 

Rot  'em,  crys  the  Whigg, 
Steeple  Rogues  grow  so  big, 
To  their  New  Per  kin  they  roar  a  Song ; 
Oh,  says  High-Church  Brood, 
We  can't  be  understood, 

They  take  a  King  that  can't  speak  our  Tongue  ; 
This  a  Canter, 
This  a  Ranter ; 
One  for  true  Kings, 
One  for  New  Kings ; 
Stark  Mad,  they  often  fall  to  Blows, 
Whilst  our  jolly  Beaus  esprits 
Drink,  o're  Wit  and  Harmony, 
Hang  the  Sect  can  be  our  Foes. 

LOVE 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  125 

LOVE  and  GRATITUDE  :  Or,  The  PARALELL; 
A  Lyrical  ODE,  taken  from  a  Chapter 
in  the  famous  Italian  Boccace. 

T  N  Old  Italian  Tales  we  read 
•      A  Youth,  by  Riot,  and  fond  Love  undone, 
Had  yet  a  Faulcon  left  of  famous  Breed, 
His  sole  Companion  in  his  fatal  Need, 

And  chief  Diversion  when  he  left  the  Town. 


The  Saint  that  did  his  Soul  possess, 

Touch'd  with  a  generous  Sense  of  his  Distress, 

Made  him  a  Visit  at  his  poor  Retreat, 
Whom  his  Heart  nobly  feasted,  but  alas, 

His  empty  Purse  could  get ; 
Nothing  was  good  enough  for  her  to  eat : 

'Till  rack'd  with  shame,  and  a  long  fruitless  Search 
He,  more  to  make  his  perfect  Love  appear, 

His  darling  Hawk  snatch'd  from  the  Pearch,    • 
And  dress'd  it  for  his  Dear ; 

Which  generous  Act  did  so  entirely  gain  her, 
She  gave  him  all  her  Love  and  Wealth, 

And  nobly  paid  her  Entertainer. 


PARALELL. 

So  when  my  Love,  with  Fate  at  Strife, 

In  hope  was  lost  to  gain  the  Fair, 
And  Nature's  darling  Hawk,  my  Life, 
Was  dpom'd  a  Feast  for  sad  Despair. 
Divine  Olympia  chang'd  the  sad  Decree, 
And  with  infallible  Divinity, 
Gave  a  new  Being  to  my  Soul  and  me. 

The 


126 


SONGS  Compleat, 


The  Yeoman  of  Kent,  A  BALLAD. 

Relating  how  the  Parson  ofS b  finding 

long  George  in  his  Shirt  under  his 
favourite  Maid's  Bed,  beat  him,  and 
turrid  him  home  without  his  Cloaths. 


IN  Kent  I  hear,  there  lately  did  dwell 
Long  George,  a  Yeoman  by  trade, 
Plump,  lively  and  young,  brisk,  jolly  and  strong, 

Who  fugell'd  the  Parson's  fine  Maid, 
And  her  Ruffdom,  Ruffdom,  frizledom  Madg, 

Her  Hey  Rump,  frizlerump,  de, 
Rowze  about,  towze  about,  seek  all  the  House  about, 
Under  the  Bed  was  he. 

It  once  fell  out,  a  Moon-shiny  Night, 

It  seems  his  Passion  did  move, 
He  thought  fit  to  wooe  her,  and  do  something  to  her, 

So  great  was  the  Power  of  his  Love, 
To  her  Ruffdom,  &c. 

At  Window  then  he  softly  did  call, 

Sweet  Amber  Mary  pray  rise, 
Since  May-day  our  dancing,  Love  has  been  advancing, 

And  thou  art  my  beautiful  Prize ; 
With  thy  Ruffdom,  &c. 

Fye  George,  she  crys,  these  Words  are  but  Toys, 

My  Master  sleeps  in  his  Bed, 
The  Door  it  is  lock'd,  and  I'm  in  my  Smock, 
Be  gone,  there's  no  more  to  be  said 
To  my  Ruffdom,  &c. 

The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  1 2  7 

The  God  of  Love,  says  he,  wounded  me, 

And  bade  me  fly  to  thy  Arms, 
I  must,  and  I  will,  this  night  have  my  Fill, 
And  tast  of  the  luscious  Charms 

Of  thy  Ruffdom,  &c. 
Did  Love  command,  dear  Georgy,  thy  Hand  ? 

For  then  it  can  be  no  Sin ; 

He  scrawling,  she  tugging,  with  hawling  and  lugging, 
Through  Window  at  last  he  got  in 

To  her  Ruffdom,  &c. 
They  were  so  fierce,  they  made  the  Bed  squeak, 

The  Parson  heard  them,  as  'tis  said, 
Who  Marriage  obeying,  and  with  his  Wife  praying, 
Found  one  did  the  same  to  his  Maid 

In  her  Ruffdom,  &c. 
Tnen  both  soon  rose,  but  Georgy  was  gone, 

Who  heard  the  Noise  that  they  made, 
That  they  might  not  find  him,  and  afterwards  bind  him, 
He  screw'd  himself  under  the  Bed 

From  her  Ruffdom,  &c. 
But  'twould  not  do,  the  Wife  found  him  out, 

Brown  Bum  blaz'd  under  the  Bed ; 
Oh  Mary,  she  swore,  Odswoons  y'are  a  Whore, 
And  soon  you  in  Jayl  shall  be  laid, 

With  your  Ruffdom,  &c. 
The  Parson  crys,  ye  wicked  young  Dog, 

How  durst  you  do  such  a  Folly  ? 
For  tho'  to  save  Strife,  I  may  preach  with  my  Wife, 
I  sometimes  sing  Anthems  with  Molly, 

And  her  Ruffdom,  &c. 
Then  out  he  pull'd  Tall  George  in  his  Shirt, 

And  gave  with.Bedstaff  some  Blows, 
Then  sent  him  away  to  his  Farm  before  Day, 

But  without  ever  a  Rag  of  his  Clothes, 
From  the  Ruffdom,  Ruffdom,  frizledom  Madg, 

The  Hey  Rump,  frizlerump  Dee, 
Rowze  about,  towze  about,  seek  all  the  House  about, 
Under  the  Bed  was  he. 

The 


128 


SONGS  Compleat, 


The  Courtier  and  Country  Maid.   A  Ballad. 
[  CHORUS  first.  ] 


=t±t= 


[Second  Movement,  like  a  Chorus.] 


*->-A 


" 


/'«  theflowry  Spring, 
The  Linnet,  Nightingale  and  Thrush, 
Sate  on  the  fresh  green  hawthorn  Bush, 
And  Jug,  jug,  jug,  and  twee,  twee,  twee, 
Most  sweetly  they  did  sing. 


Bom. 
Dop 


\Bombuy  and 

i.      A   LL  you  that  either  hear  or  read, 

J~\     This  Ditty  is  for  your  Delight  : 
>.    'Tis  of  a  pretty  Country  Maid, 

And  how  she  served  a  courtly  Knight. 
'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

Bom 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  129 

Bom.  This  courtly  Knight,  when  Fields  were  green, 
Dop.        And  Sol  did  genial  Warmth  inspire, 
Com.  A  Farmer's  Daughter  late  had  seen, 

Whose  Face  had  set  his  Heart  on  Fire, 
'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

Dop.    Oft  to  her  Father's  House  he  came, 
Bom.       And  kindly  was  receiv'd  there  still, 
Dop.    The  more  be  added  to  his  Shame, 
Since  only  'twas  to  gain  his  Will. 
'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

One  Evening  then  amongst  the  rest 

He  came  to  visit  the  good  Man, 
But  needs  must  know  where  Clara  was, 

And  heard  she  was  a  milking  gone. 

'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

Then  call'd  he  for  his  pamper'd  Steed, 

With  Pistols  at  his  Sadie  Bow, 
And  to  the  Meadow  rode  with  Speed, 

Where  she  was  milking  of  her  Cow. 

'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

Her  pretty  Hands  that  stroak'd  the  Teats, 
From  whence  the  Milk  down  streaming  came, 

Inform'd  his  Thoughts  of  other  Sweets, 
That  more  encreas'd  his  raging  Flame. 
'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

Then  off  he  lights,  and  tyes  his  Horse, 

And  swore  she  must  his  Pain  remove, 
If  not  by  fair  Means,  yet  by  Force, 

Since  he  was  dying  for  her  Love, 

'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

The  pearly  Tears  now  trickling  fall, 

That  from  her  bashful  Eyes  do  flow, 
But  that  he  heeded  not  at  all, 

But  does  her  strait  his  Pistols  shew. 

'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

VOL.  I.  K  But 


130  SONGS  Compleat, 

But  first  pull'd  out  a  fine  gay  Purse, 
Well  lin'd  within,  as  she  might  see, 

And  cry'd,  before  it  happens  worse, 
JBe  wise,  and  take  a  Golden  Fee. 

'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

Oh  keep  your  Gold,  reply'd  the  Maid, 
I  will  not  take  your  golden  Fee, 

For  well  you  hope  to  be  repay'd, 
And  greater  Treasure  take  from  me, 
'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

A  thundering  Oath  then  out  he  sent, 
That  she  should  presently  be  dead  ; 

For  were  his  Heart  not  eas'd,  he  meant 
Point  blank  to  shoot  her  thro'  the  Head. 
'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

Then  making  hast  to  seize  her,  went 
And  laid  the  Fire-Arms  at  her  Feet, 

Whilst  Clara  seeing  his  Intent, 
Has  no  recourse  to  Aid,  but  Wit. 
'Twos  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

She  feigns  a  Smile,  and  clinging  close, 
Cry'd  out,  I've  now  your  Courage  try'd, 

Y'have  met  no  simple  Country  Mouse, 
My  Dear,  you  shall  be  satisfied. 

'Twos  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

My  Father  takes  me  for  a  Saint, 
Tho'  weary  of  my  Maiden  Geer, 

That  I  may  give  you  full  Content, 

Pray  look,  Sir  Knight,  the  Coast  be  clear. 
in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 


Look  out,  and  see  who  comes  and  goes, 

And  you  shall  quickly  have  your  Will  \ 
For  if  my  Father  nothing  knows, 
Then  I  shall  be  a  Maiden  still. 

Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  £c. 

The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  131 

The  witless  Knight  peeps  o'er  the  Hedge, 
As  one  well  pleas'd  with  what  he  heard, 

Whilst  she  does  both  the  Pistols  snatch, 
And  boldly  stood  upon  her  Guard. 
'Twos  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

Keep  off,  keep  off,  Sir  Fool,  she  cry'd, 
And  from  this  Spot  of  Ground  retire, 

For  if  one  Yard  to  me  you  stride, 
By  my  sav'd  Maiden-head  I  fire. 

'Twos  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c.  \ 

My  Father  once  a  Soldier  was, 
And  Maids  from  Ravishers  would  free, 

His  Daughter  too,  in  such  a  Case,  , 

Can  shoot  a  Gun  as  well  as  he. 

'Twas  in  the  flowry  Spring,  &c. 

For  Soveraign  too,  when  Foe  invades, 

Can  on  Occasion  bravely  kill, 
Not  shoot,  like  you,  at  harmless  Maids, 

That  wont  obey  your  Savage  Will. 
'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

Who  when  the  good  old  Man,  whose  Cheer 

Shew'd  welcome,  tho'  of  little  cost, 
A  Rape  thought  on  his  Daughter  dear, 

Most  grateful  way  to  pay  your  Host. 
'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

Go  home,  ye  Fop,  where  Game's  not  dear, 

And  for  half  Crown  a  Doxey  get, 
But  seek  no  more  a  Partridge  here, 

You  could  not  keep,  tho'  in  your  Net. 
'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

At  this  the  Knight  look'd  like  a  Mome, 

He  sues  and  vows,  but  vain  was  all, 
She  soon  convey'd  the  Trophies  home, 
And  hung  up  in  her  Father's  Hall. 
'Twas  in  theflowry  Spring,  &c. 

K  2  A 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A   SONG  in  the  last  Act  of  the  Modern 
Prophets.     Sung  by  Mr.  Pack. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  133 

WOuld  ye  have  a  young  Virgin  of  fifteen  Years, 
You  must  tickle  her  Fancy  with  sweets  and 
dears, 

Ever  toying,  and  playing,  and  sweetly,  sweetly, 
Sing  a  Love  Sonnet,  and  charm  her  Ears  : 
Wittily,  prettily  talk  her  down, 
Chase  her,  and  praise  her,  if  fair  or  brown, 
Sooth  her,  and  smooth  her, 
And  teaze  her,  and  please  her, 
And  touch  but  her  Smicket,  and  all's  your  own. 

Do  ye  fancy  a  Widow  well  known  in  a  Man  ? 
With  a  front  of  Assurance  come  boldly  on, 
Let  her  rest  not  an  Hour,  but  briskly,  briskly, 
Put  her  in  mind  how  her  Time  steals  on ; 
Rattle  and  prattle  although  she  frown, 
Rowse  her,  and  towse  her  from  Morn  to  Noon, 
Shew  her  some  Hour  y'are  able  to  grapple, 
Then  get  but  her  Writings,  and  all's  your  own. 

Do  ye  fancy  a  Punk  of  a  Humour  free, 

That's  kept  by  a  Fumbler  of  Quality, 

You  must  rail  at  her  Keeper,  and  tell  her,  tell  her 

Pleasure's  best  Charm  is  Variety, 
Swear  her  much  fairer  than  all  the  Town, 
Try  her,  and  ply  her  when  Cully's  gone, 

Dog  her,  and  jog  her, 

And  meet  her,  and  treat  her, 
And  kiss  with  two  Guinea's,  and  all's  your  own. 


134  SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG.     On  Young  Olinda. 

A. 


-— * 


sa — S-     z:Fa     -f- 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


135 


^'ESEEEE 

j    ^r  -—  r 


XT  7  Hen  Innocence,  and  Beauty  meet, 
VV     To  add  to  Lovely  Female  Grace, 
Ah,  how  beyond  Expression  sweet 
Is  every  Feature  of  the  Face  : 

By  Vertue,  ripened  from  the  Bud, 
The  flower  Angelick  Odours  breeds, 

The  fragrant  Charms  of  being  good, 

Makes  gawdy  Vice  to  smell  like  Weeds. 

Oh  Sacred  Vertue,  tune  my  Voice, 
With  thy  inspiring  Harmony  ; 

Then  I  shall  sing  of  rap  ting  Joys, 
Will  fill  my  Soul  with  Love  of  thee. 

To  lasting  Brightness  be  refm'd, 
When  this  vain  Shadow  flyes  away, 

Th'  eternal  Beauties  of  the  Mind 

Will  last,  when  all  Things  else  decay. 


An 


136 


SONGS  Compleat, 


An  ODE  on  Musidora,  walking  in  the 
Spring  -  Garden.  The  Tune  by  Mr. 
Croft. 


-- 


f  rtl^Xn  i  -*=** 


^^ 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive. 


137 


AH,  how  sweet  are  the  cooling  Breez, 
And  the  blooming  Trees, 
When  into  his  Bower  Love  guides  Musidora, 
When  we  meet  there,  the  Nightingales  sing  pretty  Tales, 
Mistaking  my  Dear  for  the  Goddess  Aurora, 
Jessamines  and  Roses, 
A  thousand  pretty  Poses, 
The  Summer's  Queen  discloses, 
And  strews  as  she  walks. 


Oh  Venus,  oh,  how  sweet  are  the  cooling  Breez, 
And  the  blooming  Trees, 

When  into  his  Bower  Love  guides  Musidora, 
Passion,  Devotion,  she  gains  with  each  Motion, 
Lutes  too,  and  Flutes  too,  are  heard  when  she  talks. 
Oh  Venus,  oh,  how  sweet  are  the  cooling  Breez, 
And  the  blooming  Trees, 

When  into  his  Bower  Love  guides  Musidora. 


1 38  SONGS  Comp leafy 

A  Farewel  to  the  Town. 
A  New  SONG. 

FArewel  the  Towns  ungrateful  Noise, 
Hurry,  Strife,  that  damps  all  Joys. 
Where  Reason  proud  Ambition  blinds, 
Frenzy  of  unquiet  Minds, 

Ease  and  Pleasure, 

Blest  with  Leasure, 
In  sweet  Groves  my  Choice  shall  be, 

Ccelia  smiling, 

Time  beguiling, 
Dear  Content's  a  World  to  me. 

Late  manag'd  Peace  does  nought  avail, 
Lawyers  bawl,  and  Parsons  rail, 
A  Friend  against  a  Friend  must  be, 
And  darling  Brothers  disagree  ; 

Yet  their  Stories, 

Whiggs  and  Tories, 
Both  would  change  did  gain  appear, 

Charming  Graces 

In  a  Place  is 
Of  a  thousand  Pound  a  Year. 

Great  Pan  has  left  his  foreign  Powers, 
Where  Peace  sat  smiling  crown'd  with  Flowers, 
To  govern  Albion's  stubborn  Flocks, 
Whose  Hearts  are  harder  than  their  Rocks  \ 

He  that's  Royal 

Loves  all  Loyal 
Hearts  like  mine,  from  Treason  free, 

Peace  when  lasting, 

Love  ne'er  wasting, 
Is  a  World  to  him  and  me. 

Oh,  State  and  Glory  unconfin'd, 
Thou  burning  Feaver  of  the  Mind, 


Pleasant  and  Diver  tive. 

I,  midst  the  Grandeur  thou  dost  bear, 

In  Content  more  blest  appear  ; 

Flowers  when  springing, 
Birds  when  singing, 

In  my  Rural  Shade  I  see, 

Plots  ne'er  making, 
Heart  ne'er  aking, 

Dear  Content's  a  World  to  me. 


139 


Dialogue  /^  /^  Kingdom  of  the  Birds , 
to  the  famous  Cebell  of  Signior  Baptist 
Lully. 


She. 


m=*. 


140 


SONGS  Compleat, 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  1 4 1 


She.  T)  Ray  now  John,  let  yug  prevail, 
J7      Doff  thy  Sword  and  take  a  Flail, 
Wounds  and  Blows,  with  scorching  Heat, 
Will  abroad  be  all  you'll  get. 

He.  Zooks  y'are  mad,  ye  simple  Jade, 
Begone  and  don't  prate ; 

She.  How  think  ye  I  shall  do  with  Hob  and  Sue, 
And  all  our  Brats,  when  wanting  you  : 

He.  When  I  am  rich  with  plunder, 
Thou  my  Gain  shalt  share,  Jug. 

She.  My  Share  will  be  but  small,  I  fear, 

When  bold  Dragoons  have  been  pickering  there, 
And  the  Flea  flints,  the  Germans  strip  'em  bare. 

He.  Mind  your  Spinning, 

Mend  your  Linnen ; 

Look  to  your  Cheese  too, 

Your  Piggs  and  your  Geese  too  : 
She.  No,  no,  I'll  ramble  out  with  you ; 
He.  Blood  and  Fire, 

If  you  tire, 

Thus  my  Patience, 

With  Vexations,  and  Narrations, 
Thumping,  thumping,  thumping 

Is  the  fatal  Word,  Joan ; 
She.  Do,  do,  I'm  good  at  thumping  too. 
He.  Morbleau,  that  Huff  shall  never  do. 

She 


142  SONGS  Compleat, 

She.  Come,  come  John,  let's  buss  and  be  Friends, 

Thus  still,  thus  Love's  Quarrel  ends ; 

I  my  Tongue  sometimes  let  run, 

But  alas,  I  soon  have  done. 
He.  'Tis  well  y'are  quash'd, 

You'd  else  been  thrash'd, 
Sure  as  my  Name's  John : 
She.  Yet  fain  I'd  know  for  what 

Y'are  all  so  hot, 

To  go  to  fight  where  nothing's  got. 
He.  Fortune  will  be  kind, 

And  we  shall  then  grow  great  too  ; 
She.  Grow  Great, 

Yet  want  both  Drink  and  Meat, 

And  Coin,  unless  the  pamper'd  French  you  beat ; 

Ah,  take  care  John,  take  care, 

And  learn  more  Wit 
He.  Dare  you  prate  still, 

At  this  rate  still, 
And  like  a  Vermin, 
Grudge  my  Preferment ; 
She.  You'll  beg,  or  get  a  wooden  Leg. 
He.  Nay  if  Bawling,  Caterwawling, 

Tittle  tattle,  prittle  prattle, 

Still  must  Rattle, 

I'll  be  gone,  and  straight  aboard, 
She.  Do,  do,  and  so  shall  Hob  and  Sue, 

Jugg  too,  and  all  the  ragged  Crew. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  143 

The  Play-house  Saint;  Or,  Phillis  unmasked. 
A  New  Ballad. 

NEar  famous  Covent-Garden 
A  Dome  there  stands  on  high ; 

With  a  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
Where  Kings  are  represented, 
And  Queens  in  Metre  dye ; 

With  a  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
The  Beaus  and  Men  of  Business 

Diversions  hither  bring, 
To  hear  the  wanton  Doxies  prate, 
And  see  'em  dance  and  sing ; 
With  a  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 

Here  Phillis  is  a  Darling, 
As  she  her  self  gives  out, 
For  a  fa,  la,  la,  la, 
As  tight  a  Lass  as  ever 
Did  use  a  Double  Clout, 

On  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
She's  brisk  and  gay,  and  cunning, 

And  wants  a  Wedlock  Yoke, 
Her  Mother  was  before  her 
As  good  as  ever  strook 

For  a  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 

Young  Suitors  she  had  many, 
From  'Squire,  up  to  the  Lord, 

For  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
And  daily  she  refus'd  'em, 
For  Vertue  was  the  Word  ; 

With  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
A  Saint  she  would  be  thought, 

And  dissembled  all  she  could, 
But  jolly  Rakes  all  knew  she  was 
Of  Play-house  Flesh  and  Blood, 
And  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 

Her 


144  SONGS  Compleat, 

Her  Mother  when  incourag'd 
With  warm  Geneva  Dose, 

And  a  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
Still  cry'd,  take  care  dear  Philly, 
To  keep  thy  Ranches  close, 

And  this  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
This  made  her  stand  out  stoutly, 

Opposing  all  that  come, 
Though  twenty  Demi-Cannon 
Still  were  mounted  at  her  Bum, 
And  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
The  Knight  and  Country  Squire 
Were  shot  with  her  disdain, 

And  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
The  Lawyer  was  outwitted, 
The  hardy  Soldier  slain, 

By  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
The  bluff  Tarpolian  Sailor 

In  vain  cry'd  hard  a  Port, 
She  buffled  Shirks  at  Sea, 

As  the  Country,  Town,  and  Court ; 

With  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
The  God  of  Love  grown  angry, 
That  Phillis  seemed  so  shy, 

Of  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
Resolv'd  her  Pride  to  humble, 
And  rout  her  pish  and  fie  ; 
He  sent  a  splayfoot  Taylor, 

Who  knew  well  how  to  stitch, 
And  in  a  little  time  had  found 
A  Button  for  her  Britch, 

And  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 

Yet  was  it  not  so  close, 

But  'tis  known  without  all  Doubt, 

With  a  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
A  little  humane  Figure 
Has  secretly  dropp'd  out, 

From  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 

And 


Pleasant  and  Diver  tive.  145 

And  tho'  some  petty  Scandal 

Pursue  this  Venial  Fact, 
Her  Mother  she  swears  Zoons  and  C 1 

Her  Honour  is  intact, 

And  her  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 

Oh  Phillis,  then  be  wise, 
And  give  Ease  to  Lover's  rack'd, 
For  your  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
Let  Coyness  be  abated, 

You  know  the  Pitcher's  crack'd, 

By  a  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 
For  shame,  let  lowsie  Taylors 
No  more  your  Love  trapan, 
Since  nine  of  'em,  you  know  'tis  said, 
Can  hardly  make  a  man  ; 

With  a  fa,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 


A  SONG,  in  my  Comedy  of  the  Marriage 
Hater  match  d:  Set  by  Mr.  Henry  Pur- 
cell.  The  Tune  to  be  found  priced  in 
his  Orph.  Brit. 

AS  soon  as  the  Chaos  was  turn'd  into  Form, 
And  the  first  Race  of  Men  knew  a  Good  from  a 
Harm, 

They  quickly  did  joyn 
In  a  Knowledge  divine, 
That  the  World's  chiefest  Blessings  were  Women  and 

Wine: 

Since  when  by  Example,  improving  Delights, 
Wine  governs  our  Days,  Love  and  Beauty  our  Nights  ; 
Love  on  then,  and  drink, 
Tis  a  Folly  to  think 
On  a  Mystery  out  of  our  Reaches ; 
Be  moral  in  Thought, 
To  be  Merry's  no  Fault, 
VOL.  I.  L  Tho' 


146  SONGS  Compleat, 

Tho'  an  Elder  the  contrary  preaches  ; 
For  never  my  Friends, 
Never,  never  my  Friend, 

Never,  never  my  Friends,  was  an  Age  of  more  Vice, 
Then  when  Knaves  would  seem   pious,  and   Fools 
would  seem  wise. 


The  Queens  Health  :  Or,  New  Gillian  of 
Croydon.  The  Remarks  of  three  Jolly 
Lasses  over  a  Bottle,  on  the  present 
Affairs,  and  News. 

"T7  Ame  loudly  thro'  Europe  passes, 

±      And  sounds  of  many  a  Wound  and  Bruise, 

Once  more  then  Croydon  Lasses 

Were  met  to  settle  the  foreign  News, 
The  same  that  the  Healths  began, 
In  Master  Willy's  late  Reign, 
Brown  Nelly,  black  Joan,  and  Gillian  of  Croydon, 
Gillian,  young  Gillian,  plump  Gillian,  bold  Gillian  of 
Croydon,  fill  a  new  Glass  cry'd  Gillian  of  Croydon, 

Here's  to  our  new  Mistress  Nan. 

What  ails  this  mad  Bavary, 

Crys  Nell,  Old  NicKs  in  that  beaten  Duke, 
For  playing  a  stran^  :  Vagary, 

For  which  he  lately  had  found  Rebuke  ; 
And  they'll  ferret  him  in  the  Ban, 
Let  the  Bishop  relieve  if  he  can, 
A  Brace  of  false  Loons,  cry'd  Gillian  of  Croydon, 
Gillian  of  Croydon,  Gillian,  blunt  Gillian,  jolly  Gillian  of 
Croydon,  let  'em  be  damn'd,  cry'd  Gillian  of  Croydon, 

Fill  round  to  our  Mistress  Nan. 

Nell  dress'd  as  sprunt  as  a  Daizy, 

Cry'd,  what  a  Plague  ails  our  King  of  Spain, 
That  getting  Ground  he's  so  lazy, 
And  what's  become  of  brave  Prince  Eugene  ? 

Who 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  147 

Who  the  Marshall  you  know  did  trapan, 

And  snapt  like  a  Frog  by  a  Swan ; 
'Twill  ne'er  be  forgot,  cry'd  Gillian  of  Croydon, 
Gillian  Q{  Croydon, Gillian,  pert  Gillian,  merry  Gillian  of 
Croydon,  take  off  your  glass,  cry'd  Gillian  of  Croydon, 
A  Bumper  to  Mistress  Nan. 

Dutch  Hums  our  Health  may  wish  too, 

We  sav'd  their  Herrings  with  Pain  and  Toyl, 
For  had  we  not  cook'd  their  fish  so, 

Their  Butter  all  had  been  turn'd  to  Oyl ; 
I'll  pawn  all  the  Things  in  my  Room, 
To  welcome  the  General  home, 
And  I  my  best  Smocks,  cry'd  Gillian  of  Croydon, 
Gillian  of   Croydon,    Gillian,    blunt    Gillian,    frolick 

Gillian 

Of  Croydon,  but  the  mean  time,  cry'd  Gillian  of  Croydon, 
Put  round  to  our  Mistress  Nan. 

Proud  Lewis,  for  all  his  Incomes, 

Says  Nell,  now  finds  that  his  Hands  are  full, 
The  Old  Queen  too  has  got  the  Crincums, 
And  her  Advices  now  prove  but  Dull : 
Then  hey  for  the  Squabble  in  Spain, 
When  both  the  Boys  meet  on  the  Plain, 
Fight  Dog  and  fight  Bear,  cry'd  Gillian  of  Croydon, 
Gillian  of  Croydon,    Gillian,  stout   Gillian,  shrew'd 

Gillian 

Of  Croydi.'ti,  brim  it  then  round,  cry'd  Gillian  of  Croydon, 
Long  Life  to  our  Mistress  Nan. 

Thus  setling  of  foreign  Matters, 

They  top'd  till  Civil  Wars  broke  at  home, 
Joan  lisping  her  Liquor  scatters, 
And  Nelly  hiccuping  calls  her  Mome, 
Then  told  her  of  Robin  and  John, 
Till  strait  the  Quoif  tearing  began  ; 
Y'are  two  drunken  Jades,  cry'd  Gillian  of  Croydon, 
Gillian  of  Croydon,  Gillian,  sly  Gillian,  bowzy  Gillian  of 
Croydon,  but  to  make  Friends,  cry'd  Gillian  of  Croydcxi, 
Once  more  to  our  Mistress  Nan. 

L  2  A 


148 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  New  Scotch  SONG.  The  Tune  by  Mr. 
Corbet.  Within  the  Compass  of  the 
Flute. 


=£=i*"l 


l^ 


----.  , 

=         j    =^ 

--  1___ 


, 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


149 


MAD  Loons  of  Albany,  what  is't  you  do  ? 
You'll  find  your  wrangling,  and  your  jangling, 

Playing  aw  the  Foo ; 

Bread,  why  dee  heed  the  Mounsieur's  wily  Tales  ? 
Or  plague  your  Noddles  to  bring  in  the  Prince  of  Wales. 
Wiser  Pates  than  yours  have  laid  Succession  right, 
And  aw  the  bonny  Highlanders  for  that  should  fight ; 

Unite  then  as  one  Man, 

And  leave  what  you  began, 
To  gang  to  Kirk,  and  beg  long  Life  for  geud  Queen  Ann. 

Well  aided  Portugal*,  our  Allie  true, 

Our  High  and  Mighty, 

Friends  to  right  ye, 

Will  send  Quota's  too, 

Aw  joyn'd  in  muckle  Power  the  French  pursue  ; 
Geud  Feth  'tis  fit  the  doughty  Scot  should  do  so  too. 
In  Cabals  no  more  than  let  your  Bosoms  swell, 
But  sing  with  Joy,  for  glorious  things  have  late  befel, 

Nor  raise  the  jarring  Vein, 

Who  shall  hereafter  Reign, 

But  gang  to  Kirk,  and  beg  long  Life  for  geud  Queen 
Ann. 


150  SONGS  Compleat, 

A  New  SONG. 

Made  in  honour  of  the  Worthy  Society  of 
Archers,   meeting  the   nth   0/~  January, 
Anno    1711.      By   T.     D'Urfey.       The 
Words  made  to  a  pretty  Time  ;  She  turns 
up  her  Silver  hair. 

OF  all  noble  Sports 
Us'd  in  Country  or  Court, 
For  our  Health  or  our  true  Delight, 

The  Wise  have  confest 

That  an  Archer's  is  best, 
As  'tis  also  the  noblest  Sight ; 

He  firmly  does  stand, 

And  looks  like  a  Man, 
When  the  Shaft  strongly  drawn  does  go  : 

Drink  away  then  my  Boys, 

And  to  heighten  our  Joys, 
Sing  in  praise  of  the  brave  long  Bow. 

Britain's  Father's  did  chuse, 

E'er  damn'd  Guns  were  in  use, 
With  this  Weapon  to  end  their  Frays  ; 

Fam'd  Agin  Court, 

Shews  at  this  Royal  Sport, 
How  we  conquer'd  in  Henry's  Days  ; 

The  Mounsieur  was  mawl'd, 

And  the  English  extoll'd, 
From  the  Thames  to  the  Gallick  Sein  : 

And  were  Guns  laid  aside, 

And  our  Archers  were  try'd, 
We  are  sure  we  could  do't  again. 

Health  that  we  gain  to  our  Body  and  Brain, 
To  the  World  has  been  clearly  shewn ; 

Who  e'er  can  say, 

He  that  shoots  e'ry  Day, 
Has  the  Strangury,  Gout,  or  Stone  ? 

He  firmly  does  stand,  &c. 

A 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  151 

A  DIRGE. 

Sung  in  the  First  Part  of  Don  Quixote  by 
a  Shepherd  and  Shepherdess.  Set  by 
Mr.  Eales. 


s1 

Whil 


Leep,  sleep  poor  Youth,  sleep,  sleep  in  Peace, 

Reliev'd  from  Love,  and  mortal  Care, 
Whilst  we  that  pine  in  Life's  Disease, 
Uncertain,  blest  less  happy  are. 


Couch'd  in  the  dark  and  silent  Grave, 
No  Ills  of  Fate  thou  now  canst  fear, 

In  vain  would  Tyrant  Power  enslave, 
Or  scornful  Beauty  be  severe. 

Wars  that  do  fatal  Storms  disperse, 
Far  from  thy  happy  Mansion  keep, 

Earthquakes  that  shake  the  Universe, 
Can't  rock  thee  into  sounder  Sleep. 

With  all  the  Charms  of  Peace  possest, 
Secure  from  Life's  Tormentor,  Pain, 

Sleep  and  indulge  thy  self  with  Rest, 
Nor  dream  thou  e'er  shalt  rise  again. 

CHORUS. 

Past  is  the  Fear  of  future  Doubt, 
The  Sun  is  from  the  Dial  gone, 

The  Sands  are  sunk,  the  Glass  is  out. 
The  Folly  of  the  Farce  is  done, 

The  Folly  of,  &c. 


152 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  Satyr,  or  Ditty  upon  the  jarring  of  the 
Two  East- India  C -ys. 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  1 5  3 

NE  Morn  as  lately  musing, 

_         I  went  to  the  City  to  Poll, 
Where  Members  then  were  a  chusing, 

I  chanc'd  to  take  up  a  Scrowl ; 
A  stinging  Jest  by  my  Soul, 

It  afterwards  happen'd  to  be, 
For  the  first  Words  as  I  unroul'd 

Were,  Agree,  you  rich  Cuckolds,  agree. 

Tho'  the  Author's  Brains  did  ramble, 

The  Sence  was  poynant  and  strong, 
I  soon  found  by  the  Preamble, 

Twas  made  of  the  Trading  Throng, 
That  to  East  India  belong, 

As  by  the  matter  you'll  see, 
For  the  Burthen  still  of  the  Song 

Was,  Agree,  ye  rich  Cuckolds,  agree. 

Their  golden  Bags  increasing, 

The  Old  Company  purse  proud  grew, 
Till  at  last  two  Million  raising, 

Some  others  set  up  a  New : 
And  they  were  for  Trafficking  too, 

And  cheating  by  Land  and  by  Sea, 
And  swore  they'd  t'other  undo, 

Come  agree,  ye  rich  Cuckolds,  agree. 

Resolv'd  to  be  thought  thrifty, 

They  got  Subscriptions  like  mad, 
Some  wrote  Ten  Hundred  and  Fifty, 

A  Thousand  more  than  they  had  : 
I  thought  'em  bewitch'd  be  gad, 

Or  that  I  some  Vision  did  see, 
But  the  Old  to  truckle  they  made ; 

Come  agree,  ye  rich  Cuckolds,  agree. 

A  thousand  Rogues  and  Cheaters, 
In  Cornhill,  you'd  hear  them  call, 

The  Tories,  and  the  Tub-Metiers, 
That  roosted  near  Leadenhall. 

Oh 


154  SONGS  Compleat, 

Oh  how  Cheapside  too  did  bawl 

At  those  in  the  Poulterey, 
For  shame,  leave  acting  your  Droll, 

And  agree,  ye  rich  Cuckolds,  agree. 

To  the  Senate  then  with  Vigour, 

The  Old  soon  after  address'd, 
Tho'  half  were  chous'd  by  the  Tyger, 

That  wondrous  politick  Beast. 
The  whilst  the  unfortunate  Rest, 

In  course  outvoted  must  be, 
Was  ever  known  such  a  Jest, 

Come,  agree,  ye  rich  Cuckolds,  agree. 

Tho'  baulk'd  by  this  Digression, 

Yet  moving  another  Spring, 
They  made  amends  the  next  Session, 

And  clearly  carried  the  Thing  : 
To  Court  their  Case  then  they  bring, 

And  Reverence  made  on  the  Knee, 
But  the  Answer  got  from  the  K 

Was,  Agree,  ye  rich  Cuckolds,  agree. 

Tho'  kept  a  while  at  Distance, 

Yet  least  they  should  totally  drop, 
They  got  a  legal  Existence, 

And  then  were  strait  cock-a-hoop  : 
But  when  the  New  ones  did  stoop, 

The  t'other  as  huffing  would  be, 
For  now  again  they  got  up, 

Come  agree,  stubborn  Cuckolds,  agree. 

The  New  with  false,  sham  Storys, 

Of  which  each  Noddle  was  full, 
Equip'd  Sir  W.  N 

An  Envoy  to  the  Mogul : 
And  he  did  the  Colony  fool, 

With  Ty dings  that  never  will  be, 
Were  e'er  Stockjobbers  so  dull, 

Come  agree,  ye  rich  Cuckolds,  agree. 

The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  155 

The  Old  that  knew  this  Passage, 

And  what  Commission  he  bore, 
A  jolly  Lad,  with  a  Message, 

To  contradict  it  sent  o'er : 
Another  Packet  he  wore, 

Five  Hundred  Pounds  was  his  Fee, 
It  should  have  been  as  much  more, 

Come  agree  to  that,  Mizers,  agree. 

Ye  jarring  Powers  that  rule  us, 

What  foolish  doings  are  here  ? 
Whilst  these  two  Factions  fool  us, 

No  honest  Man  can  appear, 
No  Major  be  chose  for  the  year, 

But  that  some  Trick  in't  will  be, 
Nor  Knight  can  stand  for  the  Shire, 

Come  agree,  ye  rich  Cuckolds ;  agree. 

What  hopes  to  have  free  Senates, 

Whilst  you  are  playing  this  Game, 
And  bribe  the  Boors  and  Tenants 

Thro'  Spite,  each  other  to  tame  : 
The  Church  too,  Faith,  has  a  Maime, 

Whilst  Whiggs,  and  High  Tories  there  be  ; 
Reform,  reform  then  for  shame, 

And  agree,  ye  rich  Cuckolds,  agree. 


156 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG  in  my  Comedy,  calVd  the  Bath,  or 
the  Western  Lass.  Set  by  Mr.  Jeremy 
Clark.  Sung  by  Mrs.  Lucas. 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


157 


LOrd  !  what's  come  to  my  Mother, 
That  every  Day  more  than  other, 
My  true  Age  she  would  smother, 

And  says  I'm  not  in  my  Teens  ; 
Tho'  my  Sampler  I've  sown  too, 
My  Bib  and  my  Apron  out-grown  too, 
Baby  quite  away  thrown  too, 

I  wonder  what  'tis  she  means ; 
When  o>vx  John  does  squeeze  my  Hand, 
And  calls  me  sugar  sweet, 

My  Breath  almost  fails  me, 
I  know  not  what  ails  me, 
My  Heart  does  so  heave  and  so  beat. 

I  have  heard  of  Desires, 

From  Girls  that  have  just  been  of  my  Years, 

Love  compar'd  to  sweet  Bryers, 

That  hurts,  and  yet  does  please  : 

Is  Love  finer  than  Money, 

Or  can  it  be  sweeter  than  Honey, 

I'm  poor  Girl  such  a  Toney, 
Evads  that  I  cannot  guess, 

But  I'm  sure  I'll  watch  more  near, 

There's  something  that  Truth  will  shew, 
For  if  Love  be  a  Blessing, 
To  please  beyond  Kissing, 

Our  Jane  and  our  Butler  does  know. 


158  SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG  in  praise  of  Soldiery,  sung  in  Don 
Quixote,  and  set  to  Mustek  by  Mr.  Henry 
Purcell,  which  is  compos  d  in  his  Orpheus 
Britannicus. 

Sing,  sing  all  ye  Muses,  your  Lutes  strike  around, 
When  a  Souldier's  the  Story,  what  Tongue  can 
want  Sound  ? 

Who  Danger  disdains, 

Wounds,  Bruises,  and  Pains, 
And  the  Honour  of  Fighting  is  all  that  he  gains  ; 
Rich  Profit  comes  easy  in  Cities  of  Store, 
But  the  Gold  is  earn'd  hard  where  the  Cannons  do  rore ; 

Yet  see  how  they  run 

At  the  storming  a  Town, 
Thro'  Blood,  and  thro'  Fire,  to  take  the  Half-moon ; 

They  scale  the  high  Wall, 

Whence  they  see  others  fall, 

Their  Heart's  precious  darling,  bright  Glory  pursuing, 
Tho'  Death's  under  foot,  and  the  Mine  is  just  blowing ; 

It  springs,  up  they  fly, 

Yet  more  will  supply, 
As  Bridegrooms  to  marry,  they  hasten  to  die, 

'Till  Fate  claps  her  Wings, 

And  the  glad  Tydings  brings, 
Of  the  Breach  being  enter'd,  and  then  they're  all  Kings  ; 

Then  happy's  she,  whose  Face 

Can  win  the  Soldier's  Grace, 

They  range  about  in  State 

Like  Gods,  disposing  Fate. 

No  Luxury  in  Peace, 

Nor  Pleasure  in  Excess, 

Can  parallel  the  Joys  the  Martial  Heroes  crown, 
When  flush'd  with  Rage,  and  forc'd  by  Want,  they 
storm  a  wealthy  Town. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  1 59 

The  PEROQUETTE. 

An  ODE;  occasion d  by  the  seeing  a  very 
beaittiful  one,  belonging  to  the  Right 
Honourable  the  Earl  of  Leicester ;  with 
a  small  Remark  upon  his  Lordship' s  fine 
Seat  at  Penshurst. 


w 


ELL  mayst  thou  prate  with  mirthful  Cheer, 

And  pick  thy  plumy  green, 
Who  in  delightful  Penshurst  here, 

Art  seated  like  a  Queen. 

Thou  call's t  upon  a  Widow  oft, 

Tho'  few  of  them  are  known  ; 
With  Look  so  sweet,  and  Touch  so  soft, 

Dear  Creature,  as  thy  own. 

Thus  too  in  Groves,  and  Gardens  fair, 

Of  Old,  the  Sylvan  Gods, 
Perfum'd  with  Breeze  of  fragrant  Air, 

Contriv'd  Divine  Abodes. 


Others,  sic siti*  may  express, 
Possess'd  with  Fancy  vain, 

Thou,  only  in  thy  Bower  of  Bliss, 
That  Phrase  canst  well  maintain. 


*  Sic  siti  l&tantur  Lares. 


i6o 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG,  occasion  d  by  the  speedy  Addition 
of  two  Million,  made  to  the  Bank  of 
Great  Britain.  Sung  in  the  Modern 
Prophets. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  161 

MOunsieur  looks  pale,  and  Anjou  quakes, 
Weakly  stands  the  Thrones  they  sit  on, 
5  Versailles,  th'  Escurial  shakes, 
Hearing  of  the  Bank  of  Britain. 
Lewis  storms  to  think  the  Foe, 

Instead  of  sinking  down  grows  stronger, 
Morbleu,  says  he,  their  Millions  grow, 
'Tis  in  vain  to  fight  'em  longer. 

When  K.  of  Spain,  I  crown'd  young  Phill, 

And  to  fix  him  made  such  Offers, 
Jernie,  thought  I,  the  Bullion  will 

All  be  cram'd  now  in  my  Coffers  : 
But  these  Bougers  drink  and  whore, 

And  riot  on  each  small  Occasion, 
And  yet  begar  will  ne'er  be  poor, 

Le  Grand  Diabtis  in  de  Nation. 

The  Spanish  Indies  I  possess, 

Yet  they  bear  a  Purse  above  me, 
And  that  I  no  Bank  can  raise, 

Shews  how  well  my  People  love  me  : 
Former  grand  Success  is  gone, 

Bruges,  Ghent,  and  Lisle  is  taken, 
Then  whilst  my  Capital's  my  own, 

I'll  make  Peace,  and  save  my  Bacon. 


&% 

&33S 


VOL.  I.  M  The 


1 62  SONGS  Compleat, 


The  fond  Keepers  RELAPSE  : 
A  New  SONG. 

Inscribed  to  all  whom  it  may  concern  :  The 
Words  made  to  a  pretty  Play-house  Tune, 
call'd,  Pretty  Poll. 

CEladon  the  gay, 
In  the  merry,  merry  Month  of  May, 
When  the  gawdy  Flowers  enamelTd  lay, 
Was  with  C&lia  walking, 
She  to  move 
Talk'd  of  Love, 
What  could  prove 

Fitter  for  the  Season,  or  the  Theam  of  talking ; 
Celadon  was  angry,  you  may  guess, 
He  return'd  no  amorous  Look  nor  Kiss, 
But  thus  teas'd  pretty  Miss, 
But  thus,  &c. 

Go  Seducer,  go 

Let  the  World  no  more  my  folly  know, 
Nor  let  odious  Names  of  Miss  and  Beau 
Shame  succeeding  Ages ; 
Hast  away, 
Nothing  say, 
I'll  go  pray, 

Reason  now  at  Folly  past  my  Soul  enrages  : 
I  have  been  your  Cully,  Slave  and  Beast, 
Thrown  away  ten  Thousand  Pound  at  least, 
On  pretty,  pretty  Miss, 
On  pretty,  &c. 

Rich 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  163 

Rich  Brocadoes  so  fine, 
Phoebus  never  did  so  gayly  shine, 
And  luxurious  Flasks  of  Cyprus  Wine 
Swallow'd  at  our  feasting  ; 
Curse  on  Pride, 
Lets  divide, 
I  a  Bride 

Now  resolve  on  chusing,  thus  a  Joy  more  lasting : 
You  have  drain'd  my  Purse,  and  rais'd  my  Sins, 
I  have  given  Five  Hundred  Pound  for  Pins, 
For  pretty,  pretty  Miss, 
For  pretty,  &c. 

Farewel  Venus  Joys, 
That  my  Heart  so  long  did  vainly  prise, 
Welcome  Wedlock  now  to  close  my  Eyes, 
Never  loud  nor  craving  ; 
Skin  like  Snow, 
Eyes  like  Sloe, 
And  will  go 

In  Callicoe,  or  lowly  Chinse,  to  be  more  saving : 
Can  there  any  Life  compare  with  this  ? 
Yet  methinks  I  long  for  one  more  Kiss 
From  pretty,  pretty  Miss, 
From  pretty  Miss,  6°<r. 

She  t'  improve  the  Mood, 
Seeing  like  a  Fool  he  gazing  stood, 
Peeping  first,  then  turning  up  her  Hood, 
Runs  in  t'  embrace  him ; 
Young  and  sly, 
Had  by  th'  By, 
Ten  scay  quoy, 

An  Artifice  that  never,  never  fails  caressing  : 
Soon  was  now  forgot  the  Wedlock  Bliss, 
He  that  was  subdu'd  with  one  false  Kiss 
Went  home  with  pretty  Miss, 
With  pretty,  pretty  Miss. 

M  2  The 


164 


SONGS  Compleat, 


The  first  SONG  to  a  Minuet  of  Don  Quixote, 
in  the  first  Act. 


I 


IF  you  will  love  me,  be  free  in  expressing  it, 
And  henceforth  give  me  no  cause  to  complain  ; 
Or  if  you  hate  me,  be  plain  in  confessing  it, 
And  in  few  Words  put  me  out  of  my  Pain. 
This  long  delaying,  with  sighing  and  praying, 
Breeds  only  decaying  in  Life  and  Amour, 
Cooing  and  wooing, 
And  daily  pursuing, 
Is  damn'd  silly  doing,  therefore  I'll  give  o'er. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  165 

If  you'll  propose  a  kind  Method  of  ruling  me, 

I  may  return  to  my  Duty  again ; 
But  if  you  stick  to  your  old  way  of  fooling  me, 

I  must  be  plain,  I'm  none  of  your  Men  ; 
Passion  for  Passion  on  each  kind  Occasion, 
With  free  Inclination  does  kindle  Love's  Fire, 
But  tedious  prating, 
Coy  folly  debating, 
And  new  Doubts  creating  still  make  it  expire. 


The  Ladys  Answer.  The  second  Song  to  a 
Minuet,  at  the  Dukes  Entertainment  of 
Don  Quixote  in  the  first  Act. 

\To  the  same  Tune.] 

YOU  love,  and  yet  when  I  ask  you  to  marry  me, 
Still  have  recourse  to  the  Tricks  of  your  Art, 
Then  like  a  Fencer  you  cunningly  parry  me, 
Yet  the  same  time  make  a  Pass  at  my  Heart. 
Fye,  fye  deceiver, 
No  longer  endeavour, 

Or  think  this  way  ever  the  Fort  will  be  won ; 
No  fond  caressing 
Must  be,  nor  unlacing, 
Or  tender  embracing,  'till  th'  Parson  has  done. 

Some  say  that  Marriage  a  Dog  with  a  Bottle  is, 

Pleasing  their  Humours  to  rail  at  their  Wives ; 
Others  declare  it  an  Ape  with  a  Rattle  is, 

Comfort's  Destroyer,  and  Plague  of  their  Lives  : 
Some  are  affirming, 
A  Trap  'tis  for  Vermin, 
And  yet  with  the  Bait  tho'  not  Prison  agree, 
Ventring  that  chouse  you 
Must  let  me  espouse  you, 
If  e'er  my  dear  Mouse  you  will  nibble  at  me. 

LOVE 


i66 


SONGS  Compleat} 


LOVE  and  SATYR. 

A  New  SONG. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


WHen  Phoebus  does  rise,  the  Flow'rs  raise  their 
Heads, 

And  charm'd  by  his  Influence,  smile  o'er  the  Meads, 
When  Ccelia's  bright  Eyes  with  kindness  meet  mine, 
New  Hopes  and  new  Raptures,  my  Joys  make  divine. 
We  laugh  and  we  sing,  the  Hours  fly  with  Pleasure, 
Affairs  abroad  we  care  not  to  know, 

In  Youth  at  our  Leisure, 

Loves  happy  Treasure, 

Makes  Blessings  flow, 
Mortally  averse  to  Brawlings  of  High-Chtirch  and  Low. 

Ye  Wits  of  the  Town, 

Ye  Chiefs  of  the  Gown, 
Ye  Law-making  Sages  that  flatter  the  Crown, 

How  dare  you  address  ? 

How  can  you  profess  ? 

To  honour  your  Soveraign,  yet  still  make  her  less, 
Whilst  Factions  reign  of  Whigg  and  of  Tory, 
Your  Zeal's  a  Banter  to  all  Men  of  Sence  ; 

'Tis  Gain  moves  your  Fury, 

And  not  her  Glory, 

Nor  our  Defence, 

And  the  solemn  Word,  Religion,  is  meerly  Pretence. 

The 


i68 


SONGS  Compleat, 


The  Second  Movement. 


i 


*= 


No  Feuds  desiring, 

From  Town  retiring, 

Let's  hast  then,  and  share  in  the  flourishing  Bloom, 
Where  Noise  and  Cares  never  come, 

Nor  the  jarring 

Of  National  warring, 
That  yearly  is  plaguing  all  Christendom. 

The 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  169 


Willoughby  WHIM. 
A  Scotch  SONG. 
In  a  DIALOGUE  between  two  Sisters. 

Molly.   /^~\H  Jenny,  Jenny,  where  hast  thou  been? 
\_)   Father  and  Mother  are  seeking  for  thee, 
You  have  been  ranting,  playing  the  Wanton, 
Keeping  of  Jockey  Company. 

Jenny.  Oh  Molly,  I've  been  to  hear  Mill  clack, 

And  grind  Grist  for  the  Family, 
Full  as  it  went  I've  brought  home  my  Sack, 
For  the  Miller  has  tooken  his  Toll  of  me. 

Molly.  You  hang  your  Smickets  abroad  to  bleach, 

When  that  was  done,  where  could  you  be  ? 

Jenny.  I  slipt  down  in  the  quickset  Hedge, 
And  Jockey  the  Loon  fell  after  me. 

Molly.  My  Father  you  told  you'd  go  to  Kirk, 

When  Prayers  were  done,  where  could  you  be? 

Jenny.  Taking  a  Kiss  of  the  Parson  and  Clerk, 

And  of  other  young  Laddys  some  two  or  three. 

Molly.  Oh  Jenny,  Jenny,  what  wilt  thou  do, 

If  Belly  should  swell,  where  wilt  thou  be  ? 

Jenny.  Look  to  your  self  for  Jockey  is  true, 

And  whilst  Clapper  goes  will  take  care  of  me. 

The 


170 


SONGS  Compleaty 


The  SO  N  G  of  Orpheus  charming  the  Birds, 
Beasts,  Trees,  &c.  to  follow  him :  Simgin 
the  Kingdom  of  the  Birds.  Set  to  the 
Tune  caWd  the  Czar. 


.  p        H^"=   =-'«-r- 


-P-? jfL 


fZ- 

E 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  171 


jjgp^feggfeteg 


B 


172 


SONGS  Compleat, 


G  Roves  and  Woods,  high  Rocks  and  Mountains, 
Springs  and  Floods,  clear  Brooks  and  Fountains, 
Birds  and  Beasts  that  range  with  Pleasure, 

Hear,  hear  the  Charm  of  my  Voice, 
Make  hast  and  appear  to  dance  a  gay  Measure, 
And  Phoebus  please  with  Nature,  and  Arts  valu'd  trea 
sure, 

Hast  and  see  that  no  Sluggard  refuses  : 
Flora,  delightful  as  blushing  Aurora, 
To  banish  the  Pest  of  Pandora, 
I  summon  thy  Jessamine  and  Roses, 
Ye  pretty  young  Nymphs  with  your  Poesies, 
Come  away  when  I  sing  and  play, 
No  Creature  in  Nature 
Be  late  here,  but  wait  here, 
From  Vulcaris  hot  Bellows, 
Air  Neptune  and  Tellus, 
The  Thrushes  from  Bushes, 
And  Prickets  from  Thickets, 
Come  whisk  it  and  frisk  it, 
And  skip  it  and  trip  it, 
In  honour  of  Love  and  the  Muses. 


The  first  SONG  in  the  Modern  Prophets. 
Sung  by  Mr.  Pack. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  173 


WE  London  Valets  all  are  Creatures, 
No  Modern  Beau  can  live  without, 
Who  tho'  the  DeviLbe  in  our  Natures, 
Divinely  bring  Intrigues  about : 


We 


1 74  SONGS  Compleat, 

We  wait,  we  run,  cajole  each  Dun, 

Who  threatens  with  the  Laws  Disasters, 
In  Taverns  snore,  on  Bench  'till  four, 
Then  bring  the  Miss  for  Morning  Bliss, 
And  often  snack  her  with  our  Masters. 
And  often  snack  her  with  our  Masters. 

At  Seasons  when  the  Senate's  sitting, 
We  mimick  each  Law-maker  there, 
Without  Doors  those  within  outwitting, 
And  act  the  Speaker  in  the  Chair ; 

With  Votes  and  Pleas, 

And  Means  and  Ways, 
We  ape  the  Legislative  Jurys, 

At  th'  end  o'  th'  Day 

We  see  a  play, 

There  full  of  Ale 

The  Gallery  scale, 
And  roar,  and  clatter  like  the  Furys. 

Oft-times  by  Order  'tis  our  Duty, 

To  go  to  the  Play-house  and  take  Rooms, 
There  cheek  by  jole  we  sit  with  Beauty, 
And  out-do  clearly  all  Perfumes, 

Or  if  no  Play 

Will  please  that  Day, 
We're  hurried  strait  to  Hide-Park  Corner, 

There  Crambo  sing 

Of  all  the  Ring, 

What  wanton  Wives 

Lead  Modish  Lives, 
And  who's  the  Cuckold,  who's  the  Horner. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  175 

The  Bell  ASSEMBLY, 
An  ODE,  occasion  d  by  K.  William's  enter 
taining  the  Ladies  at  Court  every  Wed 
nesday.      The   Words  made  to  a  pretty 
New  Ayre. 

FOR  too  many  past  Years  with  Belonids  Alarms, 
Has  poor  England  been  made  a  meer  stranger  to 

Bliss, 
But  the  Goddess  of  concord   now  spreads  her  soft 

Charms, 

And  new  Gallantry  shews  us  the  Fruits  of  a  Peace  ; 
Mighty  William  fast  binds 
The  Hearts  of  both  Kinds, 

Either  Sex  so  oblig'd  makes  his  Foes  turn  his  Friends  ; 
When  our  Land  he  releas'd, 
Then  all  Mankind  he  eas'd, 
But  now  far  greater  reigns,  since  the  Ladies  are  pleas'd. 

As  the  Offspring  of  Light  new  adorning  the  Night, 
With  their  glittering  Blaze  make  the  Firmament  bright, 
All  the  Nymphs  shon  so  gay  on  great  Nassau's  Birthday, 
Had  Apollo  been  there,  had  out-dazled  each  Ray, 

Which  the  Sovereign  so  fir'd, 

He  nobly  desir'd, 
To  shew  how  Love  and  Beauty  Valour  inspir'd, 

And  tho'  Glory  in  view, 

He  like  Ccesar  pursue, 
That  he  could,  when  he  pleas'd,  be  Mark-Anthony  too. 

So  the  fam'd  Macedon,  that  the  World  overran 

With  the  Terour  of  Arms,  and  his  Wonders  in  Fight, 
When  the  Ladies  came  down  his  new  triumphs  to  crown, 
By  their  Beauty  subdu'd  gave  a  Loose  to  Delight ; 

All  the  Toyls  of  past  Days 

The  great  Mars  of  the  Battle  unarms  him  and  plays, 
Court  Gallantry  own'd, 
Jolly  Revels  went  round, 

And  the  Captives  late  sorrow  new  pleasure  soon  drown'd. 

A 


SONGS  Compieat, 


A  SONG  on  a  dressing  Fop,  in  the  3d  Act  of 
the  Modern  Prophets.  The  Tune  by 
Dr.  Crofts. 


r— =r*^=|:= 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


177 


I   Hate  a  Fop  that  at  his  Glass 
Stands  prinking  half  the  Day, 
With  a  sallow  frowzy  olive  colour'd  Face, 
And  a  powder'd  Peruke  hanging  to  his  Wast, 
Who  with  ogling  imagines  to  possess, 
And  to  shew  his  Shape  does  cringe  and  scrape, 

But  nothing  has  to  say ; 
Or  if  the  Courtship's  fine, 
He'll  only  cant  and  whine, 
And  in  confounded  Poetry, 
He'll  Goblins  make  divine ; 
I  love  the  bold  and  brave, 
I  hate  the  fawning  Slave, 
That  quakes  and  crys, 
And  sighs  and  lyes, 
Yet  wants  the  Skill, 
With  Sence  to  tell, 
What  'tis  he  longs  to  have. 

VOL.  I.  N 


178 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG,  Sung  by  Mr.  Leveridge  in  the 
Comedy  call  dy  The  Country  Miss  with 
her  Furbelow. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  1 79 


Elladon,  when  Spring  came  on, 

Woo'd  ^Sy/z/zVz  in  a  Grove, 
Both  gay  and  young,  and  still  he  sung 

The  sweet  Delights  of  Love  : 
Wedded  Joys  in  Girls  and  Boys, 

And  pretty  Chat  of  this  and  that, 
The  honey  kiss,  and  charming  Bliss 

That  crowns  the  Marriage  Bed ; 
He  snatch'd  her  Hand,  she  blush'd  and  fann'd, 

And  seem'd  as  if  afraid, 
Forbear,  she  crys,  your  fawning  Lyes, 

I've  vow'd  to  die  a  Maid. 

Celladon  at  that  began 

To  talk  of  Apes  in  Hell, 
And  what  was  worse  the  odious  Curse, 

Of  growing  old  and  stale, 
Loss  of  Bloom,  when  Wrinkles  come, 

And  offers  kind,  when  none  will  mind, 
The  rosie  Joy,  and  sparkling  Eye, 

Grown  faded  and  decay'd, 
At  which  when  known,  she  chang'd  her  Tone, 

And  to  the  Shepherd  said, 
Dear  Swain  give  o'er,  I'll  think  once  more, 

Before  I'll  die  a  Maid. 


N  2 


i8o 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  drinking  SONG,  in  praise  of  our  Three 
famd  Generals. 


\±E3±S±B:  i  '  <         I 


•• 


QUE  chacun  remplisse  son  verre, 
Pour  boire  a  nos  trois  Generaux, 
Par  tout  ou  marchent  ces  Heros, 

Us  menent  a  pres  eux  la  victoire, 
Que  chacun  remplisse  son  verre, 
Pour  boire  a  nous  trois  Generaux. 

Que  jamais  Brille  dans  1'histoire 
La  Glorie  du  brave  Marlborough ; 

Que  jamais,  &c. 

Auxson  des  verres  et  des  Pots, 
Celebrons  ici  sa  victoire  ; 
Que  jamais,  &c. 


Eeu- 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  1 8 1 

Beuvons  a  se  Grand  Capitaine 
Eugene,  1'amour  des  ces  Soldats  ; 

Beuvons,  &c. 

Si  tost  qu'il  paroit  an  Combat, 
Tourjours  le  victoire  est  certain  j 
Beuvons  a  se,  &c. 

A  D1  Auverquerque  en  pleinetasse, 
Qu'on  fasse  raison  pour  ces  exploits ; 

A  D1  Auverquerque,  &C. 
Sil  n'est  pas  la  premier  des  trois, 
En  Zele  aucun  nelny  surpasse  ; 
A  D' Auverquerque, 

Que  chacun  devous  a  la  ronde, 
Reponde  et  fasse  comme  moi ; 

Que  chacun,  &c. 
C'est  a  la  Reine  que  je  bois, 
Quelle  reigner  sur  tout  le  monde ; 
Que  chacun,  &c. 

Le  pretendu  Prince  de  Galle, 
De  Batte  soy  disant  notre  Roi; 

Le  pretendu,  &c. 
Comme  en  Eccosse  en  diserroy, 
A  fuis  d'une  Ardeur  sans  Esgale ; 
Le  pretendu,  &v. 

Si  nous  Amions  autant  la  Glorie, 
Qua  boire  nous  serrions  des  Heroes 

Si  nous,  &°<r. 

Car  parmis  les  verres  le  Pots, 
Nous  sommes  seurs  de  la  victoire ; 
Si  nous,  &c. 


Tran- 


1 82  SONGS  Compleat, 


Translated  from  the  French. 

1TJV//  every  Glass,  and  recommend  'em, 
JL       We'll  drink  our  three  Generals  Healths  at  large, 
For  whereso'er  these  Heroes  march, 
Conquest  renown' d  is  sure  t' attend  'em  • 
Fill  every  Glass,  and  recommend  'em, 
We'll  drink  our  Three  Generals  Healths  at  large. 

What  ever  shone  so  bright  in  Story 
As  Fame,  that  adorns  brave  Maryborough ; 

What  ever  shone,  &c. 
Shocking  our  Glasses  that  o'erflow, 
Celebrate  then  his  lasting  Glory  • 
What  ever  shone,  &c. 

Drink  next  then  to  that  Grand  Commander 
Eugene,  the  Delight  of  all  the  Brave ; 

Drink  next,  &>c. 

Who  laurel  Wreaths  is  sure  to  have, 
Where  e'er  he  comes,  like  Alexander, 
Drink  next,  &c. 

To  Auverquerque  exalt  your  Glasses, 
And  just  to  his  Valour  let  us  be, 

To  Auverquerque,  &><;. 
Who  tho'  not  youngest  of  the  Three, 
For  brave  Exploits  there's  few  surpasses ; 
To  Auverquerque,  6°<r. 

But  now  around  Boys,  Joy  maintaining, 
Fill,  fill  'em  like  mine  up  to  the  Brink; 

But  now  around,  &c. 
Health  to  the  Glorious  Queen  I  drink, 
Let  her  o'er  all  the  Globe  be  reigni?ig, 
But  now,  &c. 

2  he 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  1 8  3 

The  sham  Pretender  Prince  ofW 

The  Prig,  they  sent  tfer  to  be  our  K 

The  sham,  &c. 

When  the  bold  Scots  owrid  no  such  thing, 
Fled  like  a  Devil  home  to  Gallia ; 
The  sham,  &c. 

Did  we  love  Honours  kind  Caresses, 
Like  toping  we  all  Heroes  should  be  ; 

Did  we  love,  &c. 
For  Amongst  our  Cups  perpetually, 
We  should  be  sure  of  grand  Successes  \ 
Did  we  love,  &c. 


The  Solemn  LOVER.  A  New  SONG,  made 
to  entertain  the  Persons  of  Quality,  and 
other  my  Friends  at  my  Play.  The 
Words  made  to  a  pretty  Minuet,  Compos  d 
by  Mr.  Hendell. 


w 


'HEN  the  Spring  in  Glory, 

Fragrant  and  flowery, 

Just  had  thrust  Winter  out,  storming  and  showery, 
Celladon  gallanting 
Celia,  was  chanting 
A  pleasant  Tale  of  his  Fortunes  past ; 
Ah  !  my  dearest  Pleasure, 
Joy  beyond  Measure, 

Richer  than  all  the  Jems  of  India's  Treasure  : 
When  alluring  Beauty 
Prostrates  my  Duty, 

Ah, 


184  SONGS  Compleat, 

Ah,  then  I  own  my  self  wholly  blest 

State  Affair  Simplicity 

Has  my  Felicity, 

Robb'd  to  a  high  Degree  of  sweet  Delight, 
High,  Low,  jangling  all  in  a  hurry, 

Nothing  witty,  nothing  gay, 

Politicks  rule  e'ry  Day, 
Nor  can  the  dear  Bottle  relieve  the  Night. 

He  to  Court  that  wanders 

Walks  in  Meanders, 
Treading  the  Maez  of  Detraction  and  Slanders  ; 

In  the  Hall  the  News  is 

Hot  from  both  Houses, 
Some  Statesman  snapt  to  his  Tryal  comes, 

Coffee  Citts  do  prattle, 

Smoak,  Tope,  and  Tattle, 
Telling  a  foreign  Lye  of  some  great  battle  ; 

Of  the  Czar's  prevailing, 

Who  we  taught  Sailing, 
And  gave  a  Rod  to  lash  all  our  Bums, 

Poland's  Ability, 

Prussia's  Hostility, 

Make  no  Account  of  bold  Sweden's  Frowns, 
War,  War,  regale  the  Glory  Lover, 

Let  but  my  Ceeliabt  mine, 

Happiness  I'll  ne'er  resign, 
Or  change  for  the  State  of  the  Northern  Crowns. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  185 


The  Jolly  Miller. 


1—1-4- 


1  86 


SONGS  Compleat, 


XHE  old  Wife  she  sent  to  the  Miller  her  Daughter, 
To  grind  her  Grist  quickly,  and  so  return  back, 
Miller  so  work'd  it,  that  in  eight  Months  after 
Her  Belly  was  fill'd  as  full  as  her  Sack ; 
Young  Robin  so  pleas'd  her,  that  when  she  came  home, 
She  gap'd  like  a  stuck  Pigg,  and  star'd  like  a  Mome, 
She  hoyden'd,  she  scamper'd,  she  hollow'd  and  hoop'd, 
And  all  the  Day  long, 
This,  this  was  her  Song, 
Was  ever  Maiden  so  lericompoop'd. 

Oh  Nelly,  cry'd  CeKe,  thy  Cloths  are  all  mealy, 

Both  Backside  and  Belly  are  rumpled  all  o'er, 
You  moap  now  and  slabber,  why  what  a  pox  ail  you  ? 

I'll  go  to  the  Miller,  and  know  all  ye  Whore  : 
She  went,  and  the  Miller  did  grinding  so  ply, 
She  came  cutting  Capers  a  Foot  and  half  high, 
She  waddled,  she  stradled,  she  hollow'd  and  whoop'd, 
And  all  the  Day  long, 
This,  this  was  her  Song, 
Hoy,  were  ever  two  Sisters  so  lericompoop'd. 

Then 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  187 

Then  Mary  o'th'  Dairy,  a  third  of  the  Number, 

Wou'd  fain  know  the  Cause  they  so  jigg'd-  it  about, 
The  Miller  her  Wishes  long  would  not  incumber, 

But  in  the  old  manner  the  Secret  found  out. 
Thus  Celie  and  Nelly,  and  Mary  the  mild, 
Were  just  about  Harvest  Time  all  big  with  Child, 
They  danc'd  in  the  Hay,  they  hallow'd  and  whoop'd, 

And  all  the  Day  long, 

This,  this  was  her  Song, 
Hoy,  were  ever  three  Sisters  so  lericompoop'd. 

And  when  they  were  big  they  did  stare  at  each  other, 

And  crying,  Oh  Sisters,  what  shall  we  now  do, 
For  all  our  young  Bantlings  we  have  but  one  Father, 
And  they  in  one  Month  will  all  come  to  Town  too  : 
O  why  did  we  run  in  such  hast  to  the  Mill, 
To  Robin,  who  always  the  Toll  Dish  would  fill, 
He  bumpt  up  our  Bellies,  then  hallow'd  and  whoop'd, 
And  all  the  Day  long, 
This,  this  was  their  Song, 
Hoy,  were  ever  three  Sisters  so  lericompoop'd. 


SONG, 

Made  in  Honour  of  the  Renown  d  Prince 
Eugene  of  Savoy,  and  to  welcome  him  to 
England. 

The  Words  made  to  a  pretty  Tune. 

"TV  TOW  is  the  Sun 
J^    From  the  Horizon  gone, 
That  the  Empire  so  long  did  cheer, 
Weak  stands  the  Court 
Without  wonted  Support, 

We 


1 88  SONGS  Compleat, 

We  have  got  the  main  Pillar  here  : 
To  Sea  from  the  Shoar 
Let  loud  Cannons  roar, 

Let  the  Trumpet  too  sound  between, 

Whilst  from  each  Brittish  Voice 
We  are  venting  our  Joys, 

In  honour  of  great  Eugene. 

Hail  mighty  Prince, 

Whose  bright  Glory  from  hence 

Soon  will  spread  o'er  the  wandring  Isle, 
You  we  possess, 
Should  we  ne'er  see  your  Face, 

Who  remember  Turin  and  Lisle  : 
Your  Twin,  Brother  Star, 
The  Soul  of  the  War, 

Bright  as  Phcebus  was  always  seen, 
For  search  all  Europe  o'er, 
Never  Heroes  before 

Shone  like  Marlborough  and  great  Eugene. 

Each  Day  and  Night, 
To  promote  your  Delight, 

Let  the  Muses  their  Art  employ  ; 
Janglings  are  guest 
From  the  Dome  in  the  West, 

That  I  wish  may  not  curb  your  Joy ; 
Jarrs  have  long  while 
Been  the  Plague  of  our  Isle, 

The  Effects  of  our  Wealth  and  Spleen ; 
May  they  fly  like  the  Wind, 
And  let  all  be  enclin'd 

To  sing  Welcome  to  Great  Eugene. 


CHAN- 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  1 89 


CHANSON^  Francois. 

LE  printems,  r'apelle  aux  armes,  Couller  mes  larmes  \ 
Le  printems,  r'apelleaux  armes,  ah  queltourment, 
id  Dieu  parmis,  tant  d'allarmes,  epargnezmony 
Cher  amant  bis. 

Ne  revenez  point  encore  Charmante  Flora, 

Ne  revenez  point  encore  tendre  Zephire, 
Chaquefleur  qu'on  voit  eclore, 

Me  causer  mille  soupirs. 

Arbre  dont  r  epaix  femlage  former  ruiage, 
Arbre  dont  /'  epaix  femlage  cacher  lejour, 

Emittee  par  ton  omdrage  le  devil, 
De  mon  tendre  amour. 


Translated  from  the  French. 

Spring  invites,  the  Troops  are  going,  let  Tears  be 

flowing, 
Spring  invites,  the  Troops  are  going,  ah,  cruel  smart, 

Midst  alarming,  dreadful  harming, 
,    Spare  him  Fate,  who  charms  my  Heart. 

Flora,  bring  no  more  with  Pleasure,  thy  gaudy  Treasure, 
Zephire,  bring  no  more  with  Pleasure,  refreshing  Joys, 

Each  Flower  growing,  sweetly  blowing, 
Make  me  vent  a  thousand  Sighs. 

Ye  tall  Trees,  whose  gloomy  shading,  the  light  invading, 
Ye  tall  Trees,  whose  gloomy  shading,  the  day  conceal, 

Shew  by  Sorrow,  Night  and  Morrow, 
Cloudy  Woes,  like  those  I  feel. 

The 


190 


SONGS  Compleat, 


The  Italian  SONG, 

Calfd  Pastorella  ;  made  into  an  English 
Dialogue. 

He. 


-^-j 9 


HJ- 


~i — r — F~~»~ 

•— *=&£- 


She. 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  191 


'-**£• -r-frrfj^tcff^. 


He, 


1 92  SONGS  Compleat, 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  193 


ttjr:    =r-fa£3=r 


^StgpillE! 


r —  u^ — J- — k^ — JL—U. £• 


VOL.  I. 


1 94  SONGS  Compleat, 


--^ifEJLL.^ 


•-t=*- 


BLowzabella  my  bouncing  Doxie, 
Come  let's  trudge  it  to  Kirkham  Fair, 
There's  stout  Liquor  enough  to  Fox  me, 

And  young  Cullies  to  buy  thy  Ware. 
She.  Mind  your  Matters  ye  Sot  without  medling 

How  I  manage  the  sale  of  my  Toys, 
Get  by  Piping  as  I  do  by  Pedling, 

You  need  never  want  me  for  supplies. 
He.  God-a-mercy  my  Sweeting,  I  find  thou  think'st 
fitting, 

To  hint  by  this  twitting,  I  owe  thee  a  Crown  ; 
She.  Tho'  for  that  I've  been  staying,  a  greater  Debt's 
paying, 

Your  rate  of  delaying  will  never  Compound. 
He.  I'll  come  home  when  my  Pouch  is  full, 

And  soundly  pay  thee  all  old  Arrears  ; 
She.  You'll  forget  it  your  Pate's  so  dull, 

As  by  drowzy  Neglect  appears. 
He.  May  the  Drone  of  my  Bag  never  hum, 

If  I  fail  to  remember  my  Blowze ; 
She.  May  my  Buttocks  be  ev'ry  ones  Drum, 

If  I  think  thou  wilt  pay  me  a  Souse. 
He.  Squeakham,  Squeakham,  Bag-pipe  will  make  'em, 

Whisking,  Frisking,  Money  brings  in  ; 
She.  Smoaking,  Toping,  Landlady  groping, 

Whores  and  Scores  will  spend  it  again. 
He.  By  the  best  as  I  guess  in  the  Town, 

I  swear  thou  shalt  have  e'ery  Groat ; 
She.  By  the  worst  that  a  Woman  e'er  found, 

If  I  have  it  will  signify  nought ; 

He 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  195 

He.  If  good  Nature  works  no  better, 
Blowzabella  I'd  have  you  to  know, 
Though  you  fancy  my  Stock  is  so  low, 
I've  more  Rhino  than  always  I  show, 
For  some  good  Reasons  of  State  that  I  know. 

She.  Since  your  Cheating  I  always  knew, 
For  my  Ware  I  got  something  too, 
I've  more  Sence  than  to  tell  to  you. 

He.  Singly  then  let's  imploy  Wit, 
I'll  use  Pipe  as  my  gain  does  hit, 

She.  And  If  I  a  new  Chapman  get, 
You'll  be  easy  too, 

He.  Easy  as  any  worn  out  Shoo. 

[CHORUS  of  both.] 

Free  and  Frolick  we'll  Couple  Gratis, 
Thus  we'll  show  all  the  Human  Race; 

That  the  best  of  the  Marriage  State  is, 
Blowzabella's  and  Collin's  Case. 


A  Serenading  ODE  ; 

The  Words  made  to  the  foregoing  Italian 
Pastorella,  and  humbly  Dedicated  to  the 
Right  Honourable  the  Earl  of  FINGALL. 

PAstorella,  Inspire  the  Morning, 
Your  bright  Eyes  will  create  a  Day ; 
Envious  Phoebus  is  just  returning, 

Shame  him  back  with  a  brighter  Ray, 
A  brighter  Ray,  Ray,  each  adorer  with  flaming  heart, 

Before  thy  beauty  Divine  does  kneel ; 
With  Devotion  in  every  part, 

Much  stronger  than  any  Persian  Zeal. 

o  2  Arise, 


;  1 96  SONGS  Compleat, 

Arise,  then  sweet  Angel  arise, 
A  Lover  dispairing  relieve  ; 

Who  values  a  Smile  from  your  Eyes, 

More  than  all  the  worlds  Treasure  can  give. 
Thus  let  Man  do, 
What  he  can  do,  can  do,  can  do ; 
Mighty  Love  will  for  ever  be, 
Mighty  Love  will  for  ever  be 
Potent  Lord  of  our  Liberty, 
Potent  Lord  of  our  Liberty. 
Pastorella,  let  Day  break, 
On  thy  Votary  pity  take  \ 
Venus  rising  from  out  the  Sea, 
Will  be  foil  to  thee  : 
Charm  the  World  then,  and  Ravish  me, 
Charm  the  World  and  Ravish  me. 


An  ODE  on  Queen  ANN. 

The  Words  Made  to  an  Excellent  Tune  of 
Mr.  Henry  Purcell'^. 

SOund,  Fame  thy  Golden  Trumpet  sound, 
Sound,  sound  thy  Golden  Trumpet  sound  : 
Fly  from  the  Arches  of  the  Firmament, 

Inspire  the  Muses  all  around  : 
To  Sing  of  Peace  and  then  disperse, 
In  Artful  numbers  and  well  chosen  Verse  ; 
Great  Albioncts  Story, 
Great  Albionds  Glory. 

The 


s 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  197 

The  Occasional  BALLAD. 
Being  a    Supplement   to  the  last,  on  the 
Occasional  Bill ;  And  upon  the  Bishops 
and  Parsons  preaching  down  the  Play 
houses  :   The  Words  fitted  to  a   Comical 
Tune,  caWd  Hobb's  Wedding. 
Ince  long  o'er  the  Town 

My  Fame  has  been  blown 
For  Sonnets,  that  suit  with  each  Palate  ; 
Tho'  I  dare  not  maintain 
Ye  Wits,  your  bold  Strain, 
I  can  add  an  Occasional  Ballad. 

For  as  you  were  right 

In  a  Satyr  to  bite, 
When  the  Cause  was  so  near  Desolation, 

So  mine  is  a  Theam 

Of  as  great  an  Extream, 
The  confounding  all  Wit  in  the  Nation. 

But  I  am,  you  must  know, 

Not  for  High-Church  nor  Low, 
A  Medium,  my  Intelect  chooses  ; 

And  some  think  it  wou'd 

Do  the  Nation  much  good, 
If  ye  all  trimm'd  like  me,  in  both  Houses. 

For  by  moderate  Sense, 

That  can  Reason  dispense, 
Sullen  Britains  are  soonest  confuted, 

As  a  mild  gentle  Breez 

Still  refreshes  the  Trees, 
That  by  wild  roring  Tempests  are  rooted. 

Calm  Wit  will  prevail 

More  in  a  smooth  Tale 
Then  lashing  Reproof,  that  sounds  louder, 

Better  ways  we  may  use 

Oft,  to  quench  a  fir'd  House, 
Than  by  blowing  up  all  with  Gunpowder. 

And 


198  SONGS  Compleat, 

And  therefore  my  Song 

None  o'th'  Senate  shall  wrong, 
Nor  I'll  ruffle  no  Collars  of  Esses, 

But  with  Royal  Anne, 

A  renown'd  happy  Reign, 
And  a  hundred  Year  more  than  Queen  Besses. 

No  Peers  grown  too  great, 

Nor  no  Commons  Wit 
Shall  swell  up  my  Lines  to  the  Margent, 

Since  the  first  at  their  Nod 

Have  a  swinging  black  Rod, 
And  the  last,  a  rough  thing  call'd  a  Serjeant. 

No  Statesman  that  rise 

By  Publick  Employs 
With  Offence,  here  shall  trouble  the  Reader, 

No  takers  of  Bribes, 

Nor  potent  State  Scribes 
Low  as  Shrubs,  or  as  tall  as  a  Cedar. 

I'll  not  search  into  Ills 

Of  Occasional  Bills, 
Nor  the  Gain,  or  the  Loss  of  the  Nation, 

Nor  scan  the  moot  Case 

Of  the  Snake  in  the  Grass, 
Late  imagin'd  in  point  of  Succession. 

Great  Ladies  at  Court 

That  make  Profit  their  Sport, 
When  lucky  at  Ombre  or  Bassett, 

Who  in  Benefits  swim, 

So  well  I  can  trim, 
To  wish  much  Good  do  her  that  has  it. 

Old  Dames  boasting  youth 

Without  e'er  a  tooth, 
And  Beaus,  that  have  Breaths  that  can  Purge  ye 

In  short,  a  meer  Ape 

That's  a  Layman  shall  'scape, 
But  I  wont  part  so  fair  with  the  Clergy. 

A 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  199 

A  Rabby  of  which 

Who  was  fated  to  Preach, 
When  the  Fast-day  Ingag'd  all  our  Prayers ; 

As  his  Zeal  did  provoke, 

Gave  a  terrible  stroke, 
To  knock  down  the  Poets  and  Players. 

Another  Church  Wit 

Who  near  Woolpack  did  sit, 
Shew'd  a  Play  too,  to  prove  their  vile  sinning, 

Tho'  'twere  better  some  thought, 

That  his  Lordship  had  brought, 
A  good  Homily  of  his  own  Penning. 

But  a  Pamphlet  late  spread 

Had  charm'd  his  Wise  head, 
Wrote  by  one  who  well  knew  the  Stage  evil-; 

Some  Collier-\\\iQ  Saint, 

Who  to  publish  the  Cant, 
Had  rak'd  a  hodg  podg  for  the  Devil. 

A  Jargon  of  Phrase 

Cull'd  out  of  lewd  Plays, 
And  patcht  into  Form  by  the  vermin ; 

Just  in  such  a  way 

As  with  dull  hum —  and  ha, 
Some  of  them  use  to  Patch  up  a  Sermon. 

The  Tempest  long  made 

And  by  accident  play'd, 
Might  shame  them,  that  made  such  a  pother ; 

Since  no  one  can  think, 

That's  not  Mad  or  in  Drink, 
'Twas  e'er  done  in  Contempt  of  the  t'other. 

And  tho'  that  abuse 

I'll  in  Canters  excuse, 
Who  good  Music,  or  Wit  never  heard  on ; 

Yet  the  B ps  those  Rocks, 

Of  our  sence  Orthodox, 
Who  could  second  such  Stuff,  I  wont  Pardon. 

They 


2OO  SONGS  Compleat, 

They  should  favour  the  Age 
That  does  cherish  the  Stage, 

Since  kind  to  their  Ghostly  performance  ; 
Remembring  late  days 
When  Lawn  Sleeves,  and  Plays, 

Were  cry'd  down,  an  equal  enormance. 

But  see  the  result 

Of  their  quieunque  vult, 
Her  Majesty  made  Proclamation  ; 

Twixt  the  Scenes  that  none  stay, 

That  all  Bullies  should  pay, 
And  sponge  no  more  for  Recreation. 

That  no  Plays  be  rude 

Immoral  or  lewd, 
In  Bettertoris  Province  or  Riches, 

All  Masque's  lay'd  away, 

Which  is  done  since  that  day, 
For  now  they  come  mobb'd  up  like  Witches. 

All  this  being  obey'd 

Is  still  of  our  side, 
Since  the  Profit  is  our  chiefest  matter; 

But  of  all  that  have  been, 

The  commands  of  the  Queen, 
She  has  not  forbid  us  our  Satyr. 

Which  is  a  new  *  Case      [*  Doy  ley's  Case 

We  may  properly  raise,      late  try  d^ 
Where  a  Gown-man  did  furnish  the  matter; 

For  proof  of  it  all 

Ask  at  Westminster  Hall, 
How  the  Clergyman  Marry'd  his  Daughter. 

Good  sence  that  is  shewn 

Without  Blunder  or  Tone, 
Preach'd  by  heart  too,  to  make  it  more  Charming ; 

A  Devout  sober  life, 

Never  stirring  up  strife, 
All  prejudice  must  be  disarming. 

But 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  2  o  i 

But  if  o'er  the  Town 

I  observe  a  Black  Gown, 
Who  is  proper  to  make  a  fine  Farce  on ; 

As  they  late  made  Essays, 

To  Preach  down  all  the  Plays, 
I  shall  make  bold  to  Act  up  the  Parson. 

Thus  changing  advice 

With  the  Grave  and  the  Wise, 
Let  each  one  reform  in  his  station ; 

And  so  I  shall  cease, 

In  the  laudible  phrase, 
Of  Bless  the  good  Queen  and  the  Nation. 


The  Mournful  and  Passionate  Complaint 
or  Petition  of  Madamoiselle  Gallia,  or  the 
Statue  of  "France,/ lac 'd  amongst  the  other 
Nations,  before  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul's 
in  London,  to  the  Statue  of  our  late  Sove- 
raign  Lady  Queen  ANN,  now  Expos  d  to 
view  in  Honour  of  her  Majestys  coming 
to  Hear  the  Te  Deum  for  the  Glorious 
Peace.  The  Words  made  in  Jargon  of 
English  and  French,  to  a  Pretty  St. 
Germains  Air. 

MAdamyi  vous  prie  you  will  right  me, 
Injurys  maka  me  cry ; 
Do  late  you  had  reason  to  spite  me, 

Now  Ime  your  ver  good  Ally  : 
Aw,  let  not  your  Vassal  den  slight  me, 
Now,  now  in  dis  Grand  season  of  Joy. 

De 


202  SONGS  Compleat, 

De  Carver  (Jernie  me  want  Patiance) 

Shewing  your  Soveraign  rule ; 
In  spite  to  dese  happy  occasions, 

With  his  base  Hammer  and  Toole 
Among  all  de  rest  of  de  Nations, 

Make,  make,  maka  me  look  like  one  fool. 

De  East  and  Nort  Britains  are  merry, 
Dresse  and  dere  humours  are  fitt ; 

De  Irish  Smile  as  if  down  derry, 
Newly  had  tagg'd  her  great  Witt ; 

But  me,  as  if  past  Charons  ferry, 

Look,  look  just  as  if  me  were  Besh — t. 

Brave  Peace  our  Grand  Monarch  does  give  you, 

Blessing  your  Subjects  at  home  ; 
And  derefore  me  tink  it  should  greive  you, 

Seeing  me  look  like  a  Mome  ; 
Strong  Dunkirk  does  likewise  receave  you, 

Which,  which  is  begar  ver  pretty  Plum. 

Rare  Mirth  your  wise  Land  is  enjoying, 
Finding  mon  Grand  Maitre  true ; 

De  Army  he  keep  all  defying, 
Give  cause  ver  me  to  Laugh  soe ; 

Yet  here  in  dis  Posture  of  crying, 

Mine  Phiz  lowrs  as  'twould  make  a  Dog  spew. 

In  fine  den  me  humbla  Petition, 

Vor  Majesty  would  appear ; 
And  order  one  better  Incission, 

Min  clowdy  visage  to  clear ; 
For  in  dis  confounded  condition, 

Mort  dieu  me  have  Grand  shame  for  sit  here. 


MAC 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  203 


MAC    BALLOR. 

A  comical  Ditty,  in  Imitation  of  the  Irish 
Stile. 


^   *  v^  , 


IF  a  woful  sad  Ditty  to  know  thou  art  willing  Man, 
Open  thy  Ears  Joy,  and  then  thou  shalt  see ; 
To  London,  Mac  Bailor  a  stout  Iniskilling  Man, 

To  seeking  Brown  Kate,  by  my  Shoul  am  come  eey ; 
My  Heart  is  sore  wounded,  sore  wounded,  sore, 
A  la  Boo,  boo,  boo,  boo,  ho?ie,  Oh  hone,  hery  Morah. 

When 


204  SONGS  Compleat, 

When  the  Valiant  King  William  cross'd  over  the  Boyn 

Joy, 

And  with  broken  Pates,  made  Jack  Parishes  flee ; 
Of  Dragoons  a  brave  Troop  made  a  Gallop  to  joyn 

Joy, 

And  march  with  the  foremost  by  Chreest  did  come 

eey; 

They  were  beaten  sore,  Curst  and  Swore,  and  did  roar, 
A  la  Boo,  boo,  boo,  &c. 

When  I  went  on  a  Party,  I  Sung  and  was  merry  too, 
Tho'  Hunger  gives  small  occasion  to  Laugh ; 

I  without  any  Grumbling,  fought  in  London-Derry  too, 
Without  one  Dram  of Snush  or  Usquebaugh, 

Where  fed  on  Roots,  stinking  Fruits,  old  Jack-Boots. 
A  la  Boo,  boo,  &c. 

In  a  Skirmish  near  Limerick,  on  the  Bank  of  the  Shan 
non  there 

Many  stout  Teagues  were  slain  in  time  of  Yout ; 
And  at  Agrim  I  narrowly  scap'd the  damn'd  Camion 

there, 

Catching  the  Balls  by  my  Shoul  in  my  Mout, 
But  tho'  the  Guns  spar'd  my  Bones,  Love  Gad  Zoons, 
A  la  Boo,  boo,  &c. 

The  Bully-God  Mars,  tho'  a  Bug-bear  they  make  him, 
All  arm'd  like  a  Gun-smith,  with  Bullets  and  Fire, 

I  defy,  but  the  little  Whelp  Cupid,  plague  take  him, 
Make  me  snort  and  grunt  like  a  Hog  in  the  Mire  : 

She  had  Irish  Size,  English  Eyes,  fat  Dutch  Thighs. 
A  la  Boo,  boo,  &c. 

Heav'n  make  me  a  Cobler,  or  make  me  a  Broom-man, 
Or  cry  Pudding,  what  a  Plague  call  ye  it  i'th'  Street ; 

So  I  may  no  more  pogue  the  Hone  of  a  Woman, 
Deel  tauk  me  't  has  har'd  me  quite  out  of  my  Wits  : 

For  when  I  get  drunk,  toap  a  Funk,  in  comes  Punk, 
A  la  Boo,  boo,  boo,  boo,  hone,  Oh  hone,  herry  morah. 

A 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


205 


A  new  Health  to  Prince  Eugene :  A 
Triumphant  ODE  iipon  his  return  to 
Vienna.  Sung  by  Mr.  Leveridge  in  the 
Play  cal£d  the  Country  Miss  with  her 
Fiirbelow. 


-*-          -+-     r          -* 


206  SONGS  Compleat, 


T 


HE  Valiant  Eugene  to  Vienna  is  gone, 
And  since  deny'd, 
To  be  supply'd, 
All  his  Troops  are  undone  ; 

For  the  haughty  Vendosme, 

New  Recruits  being  come, 

So  proud  is  grown, 

Of  two  to  one, 
He  Revenge  swears  to  push  home : 

And  late  Losses, 

Disgraces  and  Crosses, 
Will  soon  retaliate  now  the  General  is  gone ; 

Oh  Leopold,  Oh  Baden, 

What  Fiend  was  perswading, 

Your  Priest-ridden  Clan, 

Simply  to  baulk  so  rare  a  Man. 


Tho'  Carthage  grew  proud,  when  story  once  shew'd, 
How  well  the  Grand, 
Blind  Affrican, 
O'er  the  Alps  hew'd  out  his  Road  ; 

All 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  207 

All  the  Rocks  in  his  way, 

Were  but  Puff-past  and  Clay, 

To  those  were  seen, 

When  great  Eugene, 
Made  his  rugged  Essay ; 

Where  no  Storm  nor 

Loud  Thunder,  this  Wonder, 
Could  ever  from  his  Purpose  cause  to  hault  or  stay  : 

Tho'  Watches,  dispatches, 

And  lying  their  Frying, 

His  Youth  did  so  decay, 

Sable  Locks  turn'd  into  Grey. 

Then  Latium  give  o'er,  name  Cczsar  no  more ; 
Nor  the  Macedon, 
Whose  high  renown, 
Were  so  blaz'd  on  before ; 
But  let  Glorious  £ugene, 
That  August  Man  of  Men, 

Be  sounded  high, 

As  far  as  Sky, 

Or  the  Globe  can  contain  ; 
For  a  braver, 
Or  bolder, 
Good  Soldier, 

Did  never  on  the  bloody  Field  maintain  his  Ground  : 
Hell  take  those  remove  him, 
And  here's  to  those  love  him, 
Drink,  drink  Boys  around, 
And  his  Foes  Pluto  confound. 


The 


208  SONGS  Compleat, 

The  new    Blackbird ;    A    Satyr  Musical. 
Being  Remarks  on  some  of  our  Allies, 
Occasioned  by  the  States  Deputy s  late  re 
fusing  to  assist  the  Duke  of  Marlboro  ugh. 

MQunsieitr  grown  too  mighty, 
Made  half  Europe  grown ; 
or  Causes  weighty, 

Joyn'd  to  pull  him  down 
The  Spread  Eagle's  glory, 

Long  Eclips'd  had  been, 
Portugal*  John  Dory 

Gladly  too,  came  in  ; 
Hogan  mogan  biters, 

Who  our  Fish  devour, 
Promis'd  Troops  of  Fighters, 

To  compleat  the  Power : 
Whilst  in  the  Hawthorn  Tree, 
Terry,  terry  rerry  rerry,  sung  the  Blackbird, 
Hey,  terry  rerry  rerry,  sung  the  Blackbird, 

Oh  what  Allies  have  we. 

Now  their  Word  and  Honour, 

How  these  Chiefs  regard ; 
Pray  Sirs  note  the  manner, 

'Twill  good  mirth  afford  ; 
First  the  Imperial  Widgeon, 

Lately  gone  to  rest, 
Was  for  Romes  Religion, 

Fool'd  by  each  sham  Priest ; 
Schemes  of  War  were  Riddles, 

Anxious  to  his  Poll, 
Whilst  Cremona  fiddles, 

Charm'd  his  thoughtless  Soul ; 
Then  in  the  Hawthorn  Tree,  &c. 

He  that  rules  at  Lisbon, 

In  next  Scene  survey  ; 
Plagu'd  ('tis  said)  in  his  Bone, 

The  Venereal  way ; 

Austerian 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  209 

Austerian  Charles  inviting, 

To  recover  Spain ; 
He  performance  slighting, 

Forc'd  him  off  again ; 
Arms  we  sent  and  Mony, 

English  Boys  to  Horse, 
But  the  Devil  a  Penny, 

Did  they  so  disburse  : 
Whilst  in  the  Hawthorn  Iree,  £c. 


Prussia  bravely  true  is, 

As  in  Action  bold ; 
But  the  Godson  Lewis, 

Gobbles  up  French  Gold  ; 
One  great  Marlborough  aiding, 

Makes  his  Glory  swell ; 
T'other  Fight  evading, 

Stinks  on  the  Mosselle; 
Shame  pursue  the  great  Ones, 

Who  from  Honour  fall, 
Fame  renown  the  Britains 

Bear  the  brunt  of  all : 
Whilst  in  the  Hawthorn  Tree,  &c. 

Lucky  War  maintaining, 

Pray  observe  the  rest ; 
Bleinhints  Battle  gaining, 

All  the  General  blest ; 
Belgian  Troops  admiring, 

Courted  his  Command ; 
Conquest  still  acquiring, 

Through  the  German  Land ; 
Hemskirk  yet  and  Shagen, 

Baulk'd  him  late  through  fear, 
Oh  rare  Hogan  Mogan, 

Who  shall  lead  next  Year, 
When  in  the  Hawtfwrn  Tree,  &c. 

VOL.  i.  P  Britains 


2 io  SONGS  Compleat, 

Britains  gain  new  Glory, 

Joyn  like  those  of  Old  ; 
'Tis  too  plain  a  story, 

We  are  bought  and  sold ; 
Belgians  still  uniting, 

Mighty  Sums  have  won ; 
Whilst  pretending  Fighting, 

Friendly  Trade  goes  on  : 
Now  to  leave  off  writing, 

Skdlums  pine  and  grieve, 
When  we're  next  for  Fighting, 

We'll  not  ask  you  leave, 
When  in  the  Hawthorn  Tree, 
Terry,  terry  rerry  rerry,  Sings  the  Blackbird, 
Hey,  terry  rerry  rerry,  Sings  the  Blackbird, 

Then  Jolly  Boys  we'll  be. 


A  Satyr  upon  London,  and  in  Praise  of 
the  Country.  The  Words  made  to  a  pretty 
New  Ttine. 

WHO  in  Old  Sodom  would  live  a  Day, 
Grow  Deaf  with  Rattling  of  Coaches  ; 
Where  Folly  and  noise  is  call'd  brisk  and  gay, 
And  Wit  lyes  in  studying  Debauches. 

With  Stinks,  which  Smoke  and  rank  Foggs  display, 

Who'd  be  offending  their  Noses  ; 
That  in  the  sweet  Shades  of  the  Countiy  may, 

Sit  Cool  under  Bushes  of  Roses. 

Town  Fops  in  Riot  consume  every  Day, 
The  Citt  will  Cheat  his  own  Brother ; 

And  the  Ladys  haunt  the  Park  and  the  Play, 
To  Laugh,  and  Rail  at  each  other. 

Our 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  2  r  i 

Our  Funds  are  wanting,  our  Credit  decays, 

The  French  are  publickly  Arming  ; 
And  for  all  the  daily  noise  is  of  Peace, 

It  never  comes  to  confirming. 

But  we  that  Breath  in  a  Fragrant  Air, 

From  News,  Street  noise,  and  such  Howling  ;  _ 

Our  innocent  Pleasures  each  Day  prepare, 
With  Fishing,  and  Shooting,  and  Bowling. 

Some  Mornings  early  we  Hunt  a  Hare, 

Who  Life  to  Pleasure  us  looses  ; 
Or  else  if  the  Weather  proves  not  fair, 

At  home  we  Regale  on  the  Muses. 

The  charming  Raptures  of  Beauty  and  Love, 

Sweet  Claris  freely  affords  too  ; 
When  we  meet  each  Evening  in  a  lone  Grove, 

And  sing  and  bill  as  the  Birds  do. 

She  feeds  on  Jessamin,  and  spring  Nectar  drinks, 
Whilst  she  we  call  a  Town  Madam  ; 

Is  infected  still  with  a  foul  Suburb  slinks, 
And  Damns  her  self  in  old  Sodom. 


P  2  7 he 


2. 1  2 


SONGS  Compleat, 


The  Dame  of  Honour  or  Hospitality,  Sung 

tMrs.  Willis  in  the  OPERA  call'd  the 
ingdom  of  the  Birds. 


nizfnpi^— =pzr=p=t=p= 

-tj[ 


j« «— 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  2 1 3 


Since  now  the  world's  turn'd  upside  down, 
And  all  things  chang'd  in  Nature ; 
As  if  a  doubt  were  newly  grown, 

We  had  the  same  Creator : 
Of  ancient  Modes  and  former  ways, 
I'll  teach  you,  Sirs,  the  manner  ; 
In  good  Queen  Besses  Golden  Days, 
When  I  was  a  Dame  of  Honour. 

I  had  an  ancient  Noble  Seat, 

Tho'  now  -'tis  come  to  Ruin  ; 
Where  Mutton,  Beef,  and  such  good  Meat, 

In  th'  Hall  were  daily  Chewing  : 
Of  Humming  Beer  my  Cellar  full, 

I  was  the  Yearly  Donor  ; 
Where  toping  Knaves  had  many  a  Pull, 

When  I  was  a  Dame  of  Honour. 

My  Men  of  homespun  honest  Grey's, 

Had  Coats  and  comely  Badges  ; 
They  wore  no  dirty  ragged  Lace, 

Nor  e'er  complain'd  for  Wages  ; 
For  gawdy  Fringe  and  Silks  o'th'  Town, 

I  fear'd  no  threatning  Dunner : 
But  wore  a  decent  Grogram  Gown, 

When  I  was  a  Dame  of  Honour. 

I  never  thought  Cantharides 

Ingredient  good  in  Posset, 
Nor  ever  stript  me  to  my  Stays, 

To  play  the  Punk  at  Basset ; 
In  Rattafee  ne'er  made  debauch, 

Nor  reel'd  like  toping  Gunner ; 
Nor  let  my  Mercer  seize  my  Coach, 

When  I  was  a  Dame  of  Honour. 


214  SONGS  Compleat, 

I  still  preserv'd  my  Maiden  fame, 

In  spight  of  Oaths  and  Lying ; 
Tho'  many  a  long  chinn'd  Youngster  came, 

And  fain  would  be  enjoying  : 
My  Fan,  to  guard  my  Lips  I  kept, 

From  Cupid's  lewd  o'errunner  ; 
And  many  a  Roman  Nose  I  rapp'd, 

When  I  was  a  Dame  of  Honour. 

My  Curling  Locks  I  never  bought 

Of  Beggar's  dirty  Daughters  ; 
Nor  prompted  by  a  wanton  thought, 

Above  Knee  ty'd  my  Garters ; 
I  never  glow'd  with  Painted  Pride, 

Like  Punk  when  the  Devil  has  won  her  : 
Nor  prov'd  a  cheat  to  be  a  Bride, 

When  I  was  a  Dame  of  Honour. 

My  Neighbours  still  I  treated  round, 

And  Strangers  that  come  near  me ; 
The  Poor  too  always  Welcome  found, 

Whose  Prayers  did  still  endear  me  ; 
Let  therefore  who  at  Court  would  be, 

No  Churl,  nor  yet  no  Fawner : 
Match  in  old  Hospitality, 

Queen  Besses  Dame  of  Honour. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  2  \  5 


The  6th  SONG  in  the  last  Act  of  the  2<d  Part 
of  Don  Quixote,  Sung  by  Mr.  Freeman 
and  Mrs.  Gibber.  Set  by  Mr.  Purcell. 


"C/ 


2 1 6  SONGS  Compleat, 


BEE 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  2 1 7 


P«  p    -*V<M-»^ — »^-^vH-^>~^^ 


-xJ- 


2l8 


SONGS  Compleat, 


Mr. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  2 1 9 


Mr.  Freeman. 

GEnius  of  England,  from  thy  pleasant  Bow'r  of 
bliss, 

Arise  and  spread  thy  sacred  Wings ; 
Guard,  guard  from  Foes  the  Brittish  State, 
Thou  on  whose  smiles  does  wait, 
Th'  uncertain  happy  Fate  of  Monarchies  and  Kings. 


Mrs.  Gibber. 

Then  follow  brave  Boys,  then  follow  brave  Boys  to  the 

Wars, 

Follow,  follow,  follow,  follow,  follow,  follow 
Follow,  follow,  follow  brave  Boys  to  the  Wars, 
Follow,  follow,  follow  brave  Boys  to  the  Wars  ; 

The  Lawrel  you  know's  the  Prize, 

The  Lawrel  you  know's  the  Prize  : 
Who  brings  home  the  Noblest,  the  noblest, 
The  noblest  Scars  looks  finest  in  Celia's  Eyes  ; 

Then  shake  off  the  Slothful  ease, 
Let  Glory,  let  Glory,  let  Glory  inspire  your  Hearts  ; 

Remember  a  Soldier  in  War  and  in  Peace, 
Remember  a  Soldier  in  War,  in  War  and  in  Peace, 

Is  the  noblest  of  all  other  Arts  : 

Remember  a  Soldier  in  War  and  in  Peace, 
Remember  a  Soldier  in  War,  in  War  and  in  Peace, 

Is  the  noblest  of  all  other  Arts. 


SON- 


220  SONGS  Compleat, 

SONNET  Royal,  made  for  one  Voice  to 
Instruments. 

THE  Infant  blooming  Spring  appears, 
Sol  has  his  way  through  Aries  made  ; 
And  now  this  Wond'rous  of  all  Years, 
The  Prize  of  Europe  must  be  play'd. 

Crested  Belona  shakes  her  Lance, 

Her  Sister  Britain  to  defend ; 
Whilst  Mars  of  Old,  in  League  with  France, 

Dares  proudly  against  both  contend. 

[Second  Movement^ 

But  Rouze  valiant  Britains,  and  fear  quite  remove, 

You  cannot  of  Victory  fail ; 
Our  Goddess  below,  and  our  Goddess  above, 
By  force  of  their  Charms, 
As  that  of  their  Arms, 
Have  a  right  still  to  conquer  the  Male. 

[Third  Movement^ 

March  on  then  brave  souls, 
You're  sure  of  your  Pay  ; 
And  toping  full  Bowls, 
Warm  valours  allay, 

This  wish  to  the  Queen,  daily  chant  by  the  way  : 
In  wealth  may  she  flow 
May  she  Lewis  bring  low, 
May  her  Fame  spread  and  grow, 
Whilst  Sun  shines,  or  Wind  blows, 
And  Hang  up  Her  foes. 
In  Wealth  &c. 


English 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  221 

English  Words  made  to  a  Famoiis  Italian 
Ayre,  calld  Scoca  puero. 

Life's  short  Hours,  too  fast  are  hasting 
Sweet  Amours,  can  never,  never  be  lasting  ; 
Care  and  sorrow, 
May  to  morrow, 

Hinder  the  dear  design  of  Pleasure, 
Nor  grant  the  happy  leasure, 
To  count  our  darling  Treasure ; 

Time,  time  Celia  is  flying, 

Whilst  you  are  denying, 

Dissolution,  and  Confusion 

The  passing  Bell  tolling, 

Relations  condoling 

Horror  will  soon  be  surrounding, 

Nature  confounding ; 

Make  then  amends  whilst  you  may, 

My  dear  for  that  sad  Day, 

Our  Loves  kind  advances, 

Our  Songs  and  our  Dances, 
Age  will  conclude,  and  Amorous  trances ; 

Beauty  with  all  'tis  charms, 
Oh  pitty,  oh  pitty  will  freez  in  my  Arms. 


Cursory  Remarks  on  some  Few,  and  parti- 
larly  the  No  £ea2ttyjc>fTunbridge  Wells. 

KO  shew  Tunbridge  Wells, 
_       Other  Waters  excells, 
In  the  various  effects  of  the  blessing ; 
I  can  prove  without  pain, 
They  can  work  on  the  Brain, 

As  well  as  the  Bladder  by  P sing. 

For 


T 


222  SONGS  Compleat, 

For  as  they  can  Heal, 

With  the  Iron  and  Steel, 
And  the  Wretch,  Paralitick  recover ; 

They  can  make  lewd  Dice  Players, 

Go  to  Chappel  to  Prayers, 
And  a  Brazen  Physitian  turn  Lover. 

They  can  make  him  disgrace, 

A  most  Beautiful  Face, 
And  adore  a  thing,  Frowzy  and  Cloudy ; 

Witness  a  brown  Girl, 

Counted  here  for  a  Pearl, 
Whom  we  all  thought  at  Clapham  a  Dowdy. 

A  Face  turn'd  four-square, 

Full  of  aukwardly  Air, 
Ne'er  design'd  for  nice  beauty's  Regalia  ; 

With  a  Mouth,  which  each  laugh, 

Spreads  two  Inches  and  half, 
And  a  Skin  like  a  Ham  of  Westphalia. 

Then  tho'  Grazzet  she  wears, 
Through  her  Sisterly  fears, 

Of  what  her  whole  Lineage  may  come  too ; 
Since  her  Daddy  despairs, 
Yet  she  gives  her  self  Airs, 

And  has  got  the  Town  Jett  with  her  Bum  too. 

They  can  make  the  Precise, 
The  Demure  and  the  Wise, 

Applaud  this  fine  Method  of  living ; 
Tho'  you  never  can  keep 
Out  the  Wolves  from  the  Sheep, 

And  it  all  ends,  in  Cheating  and  Thieving. 

In  short  to  conclude, 

Without  being  rude, 
They  can  give  such  a  Tincture  to  Nature ; 

They  Fat  Bawds  can  inure, 

To  sell  Fruit,  and  Procure, 
In  spight  of  the  Jerks  of  a  Satyr. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  tive.  223 


A  SONG,  Made  on  the  happy  Occasion  of 
our  Late  Forcing  the  French  Lines.  The 
Words  made  to  a  pretty  new  Minuet. 

GRand  Louis  falls  head-long  down, 
Since  Luxemburg 's  Death,  the  Witchcraft  is  gone ; 
No  Planet  durst  for  him  appear, 
At  Helisheim  now,  nor  Blenheim  last  Year  : 

Th'  Arm's  shouting, 

Bavaria's  routing, 
Shews  just  Fate  too,  that  Rebel  resigns, 

Once  more  flying, 

Hark  how  he's  crying, 
Jernie  bleau,  they  have  forc'd  our  strong  Lines. 

Sing  Muses,  the  General's  praise, 

Baulk'd  at  the  Mosselle,  but  not  at  the  Maes ; 

Whilst  Volumns  with  scandal  are  full, 

On  Lewis  the  Craz'd,  and  Lewis  the  Dull : 

One  oppressing, 

Feigning  redressing, 
Seises  Crowns  without  Title  or  Law ; 

T'other  marches, 

Very  rarely  charges, 
Witness  late,  the  long  Siege  at  Landau. 

Crown  bowls  then  each  Brittish  brave  Son, 
Let  Bourbon  dispair,  and  Baden  doze  on, 
Tell  all  who  proud  France  dare  defend ; 
What  Brabant  begins  all  Flanders  shall  end, 

Antwerp  surrender, 

What  can  defend  her, 
Millian  yield  too,  to  Glorious  Eugene ; 

When  that's  gone  too, 

Vendosme,  Vendosme  too, 
Hey,  for  Paris  next  Summer's  Campaign. 


224 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  New  SONG  by  way  of  Congratulation  to 
her  Majesty,  on  the  Happy  Frustrating 
the  late  French  Invasion. 


bfczid  i  i  zzE^sEi 


=±rt 


From 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  225 


FRom  Dunkirk  one  Night,  they  stole  out  in  a  fright, 
To  Insult  our  Faith's  Royal  Defender ; 
But  some  Damon  in  th' dark,  made 'em  out-run  the  mark, 

And  so  baulk  the  invading  Pretender : 
Whilst  the  Mounsieur  in  heat,  sent  Express  to  each  State, 

That  in  Scotland  he  straight  should  be  Crown'd ; 
But  instead  of  that  Reign,  he  must  take  him  again, 
Laugh  Jolly  bold  Britains,  laugh,  laugh, 
Laugh  at  him  Europe  all  round. 

Would  my  Country-men  know,  how  this  comes  to  be  so, 

And  how  He  and  his  Slaves  are  so  hearty  ; 
Be  ye  Commons  or  Lords,  in  a  few  honest  words, 

'Tis  explain'd  they  are  all  of  a  Party  : 
And  tho'  poor  as  Rats,  without  Coyn  or  Estates, 

Only  what  the  most  Christian  will  spare ; 
They  Unite  against  the  Foe,  ah,  let  us  do  but  so, 
Ye  Jolly  bold  Britains  then,  then, 

Then  let  'em  come  if  they  dare. 

Long  live  Gracious  Ann,  let  her  flourishing  Reign, 

Give  her  safety  and  Glory  for  ever  ; 
Let  no  more  Northern  Scribes,  sell  her  Kingdom  for 
bribes, 

Nor  the  Brittish  to  plague  it  endeavour  : 
Let  \heDutch  Troops  obey,  and  <£\\'zMarlborough  his  way, 

Let  great  Hannover  mind  his  Affair  ; 
Let  brave  Prince  Eugene,  lead  his  Troops  once  again, 
Ye  haughty  French  boasters  then,  then, 

Then  stand  your  Ground  if  you  dare. 
VOL.  I.  Q  The 


226  SONGS  Compleat, 

The  Court  LUNATICKS,  or  Reflections  on  the 
late  Changes.  The  Words  made  to  the 
Tune  of  a  pretty  Country  Dance,  call'd 
Hedg  Lane. 

SNUG  of  late,  the  Barons  sate 
With  Northern  Brittons  bonny, 
Commons  they,  were  every  Day, 

On  Ways  and  Means  for  Mony  : 
But  there's  now,  the  Devil  to  do, 

The  high  built  Tory  rory  ; 
Plots  maintain  'gainst  Moderate  Men, 

But  have  fain  down  a  story  : 
Greg's  harangu'd,  but  yet  unhang'd, 

They  want  some  more  discovery  ; 
H- Ifs  out,  there's  none  can  doubt, 

And  St — — ns  past  recovery  : 
M hams  Plot  is  piping  hot, 

And  all  to  change  the  Ministry ; 
They  only  mean,  t'  abuse  the  Q «, 

With  Loyal  sham  pretences, 
Fie,  Tories  fie,  you  soar  so  high, 

Y'  have  all  quite  lost  your  Senses. 

Who  would  put  the  General  out, 

That  is  not  strangely  Frantick  ? 
Who'd  defame  Godolphins  name, 

That  is  not  simply  antick  ? 
Who'd  displace  the  Purse  and  Mace, 

That  value  Law  or  Reason  ? 
Who'd  discard  the  Q ns  best  Guard, 

That  is  not  fond  of  Treason  ? 
Yet  the  Muse,  can  some  produce, 

Who  'tis  believ'd  are  much  to  blame ; 
Some  who  hope,  to  climb  the  top, 

And  are  too  Great  for  me  to  name : 
Who  pretend,  the  Church  to  mend, 

Yet  only  do  confound  the  same : 

And 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  227 

And  meerly  mean,  to  abuse  the  Q «, 

With  Loyal  sham  pretences ; 
Fie,  Tories  yfe,  &c. 

H- fs  Gown,  is  now  laid  down, 

The  Court  for't  is  in  Mourning ; 
Yet  the  Cross,  gives  little  loss, 

His  Coat  so  well  bears  turning : 
In  all  Reigns,  his  working  Brains, 

Both  sides  have  oft  been  trying ; 
Passive  fear,  he  well  could  bear, 

But  never  self  denying  : 
M sell  too,  who  all  Men  knew 

Of  late,  so  wise  and  Politick ; 
Swears  to  joyn  the  Grand  design, 

In  spite  of  his  Comptroling  stick  : 
Several  more  were  late  brought  o'er, 

But  all  were  routed  in  the  nick ; 
The  Snake  was  seen  the  Flow'rs  between, 

For  all  their  Grave  pretences ; 
Fie,  Tories  fie,  &c. 

Then  in  short  'tis  well  the  Court, 

Can  great  Preferments  vary ; 
Since  they've  chose,  all  now  suppose, 

An  honest  Secretary : 
One  too  Just  a  Knave  to  trust, 

Tho'  Language  he  pronounces, 
Or  to  make  his  Judgment  weak, 

Employing  Factious  Dunces  : 
Let  this  Year  our  Ships  of  War, 

Be  worth  an  able  Penmans  care  ; 
Let  the  Plots  of  raving  Sot, 

Ne'er  draw  our  Party  to  a  snare  ; 
Nor  the  kind  indulgent  Q n, 

Afflict  with  Heart  disturbing  care  : 
By  doubts  that  rise,  and  Tales  and  Lies, 

And  Loyal  sham  pretences  ; 
Fie,  Tories  fie,  you  Soar  so  high, 

Y'have  all  quite  lost  your  Senses. 

Q  2  A 


228 


SONGS  Compleati 


A  SONG  for  Sancho  in  the  Fourth  Act  of 
Don  Quxiot.     Set  by  Mr.  John  Eccles. 


asE^to^-fe: 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


229 


a*«=- p — ' h ! • — u ^- ' ' [ »• 


=F 


v-|»— -f-\ 

^^E'r_^=iEB= 


""T^Was  early  one  Morning,  the  Cock  had  just  crow'd ; 

j         Sing  'hey  ding,  hoe  ding,  langtridown  derry ; 
My  Holiday  Cloaths  on,  and  face  newly  Mow'd, 

with  a  hey  ding,  hoe  ding,  drink  your  brown  Berry ; 
The  Sky  was  all  Painted,  no  Scarlet  so  Red, 
For  the  Sun  was  just  then  getting  out  of  his  Bed, 
When  Teresa  and  I  went  to  Church  to  be  sped ; 

With  a  hey  ding,  hoe  ding,  shall  I  come  to  Wooe  thee, 
Hey  ding,  hoe  ding,  will  ye  buckle  to  me; 
Ding,  ding,  ding,  ding,  ding,  ding  derry,  derry, 
Derry  ding,ding,  ding,  ding,  ding, hey  lantridown  derry. 

Her  Face  was  as  fair,  as  if  t  had  been  in  Print, 

Sing  hey  ding,  &c. 
And  her  small  Ferret  Eyes,  did  lovingly  Squint ; 

With  a  hey  down,  &c. 
Yet  her  mouth   had  been  damag'd   with  Comfits  & 

plumbs, 

And  her  Teeth  that  were  useless,  for  biting  her  Thumbs, 
Had  late,  like  ill  Tennants,  forsaken  her  Gums  ; 
With  a  hey  ding,  hoe  ding,  &c. 

But 


230 


SONGS  Compleat, 


But  when  Night  came  on,  and  we  both  were  a  Bed, 

Sing  hey  ding,  &c. 

Such  strange  things  were  done,  there's  no  more  to  be 
said. 

With  a  hey  down,  &c. 

Next  Morning  her  head  ran  of  mending  her  Gown, 
And  mine  was  plagu'd  how  to  pay  Piper  a  Crown, 
And  so  we  rose  up  the  same  Fools  we  lay  down, 
With  a  hey  ding,  hoe  ding,  &c. 


The  Wedding,  or  the  Farmers  Holliday ; 
A  New  SONG.  The  Words  made  to  a 
Pleasant  Tune. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five. 


231 


SAy's  Roger  to  #7//,  both  our  Teams  shall  lye  still, 
And  no  Hay  shall  be  carry'd  to  make  the  Mow ; 
For  what  e'er  betide,  we  must  see  the  new  Bride, 
And  the  Lads  and  the  Lasses,  and  all  the  Show : 
Such  fine  folk  never  were  seen, 
For  all  the  Country  comes  in, 
To  Day,  let's  leave  then  our  hoy  gee  hoa. 

There's  Flaxen,  and  Brown,  and  Slim,  and  full  grown, 

There's  Tall  for  your  liking,  and  others  low ; 
There's  some  that  can  Skip,  and  there's  others  can  trip, 
There's  grey  Eyes,  and  Hazel,  and  black  as  Sloe  : 
Their  looks  so  pleasing  and  kind, 
They're  sure  all,  all  of  one  mind  ; 
Zooks  think  no  more  then  of  hoy  gee  hoa. 

There's  Widdows  and  Maids,  with  their  high  cocking 

heads, 

Tho'  some  are  unskilful,  yet  others  know ; 
There's  Batchelors  brisk,  who  can  Caper  and  Frisk, 
And  the  Art  of  fine  footing  can  nimbly  shew  : 
When  blood  warms,  Matches  are  made, 
Thus  on  goes  love  Jolly  trade, 
Then  who'd  be  sweating  at  hoy  gee  hoa. 

Windsor 


232  SONGS  Compleat, 

Windsor  Tarrass.     A  New  SONG. 


M  Using  I  late, 
On  Windsor  Tarras  sate  ; 

And  hot,  and  weary, 

Heard  a  merry, 
Am'rous  couple  chat ; 

Words  as  they  go, 
The  Nymph  soon  made  me  know, 

And  t'other  was, 

Tho'  gay  in  dress, 
A  blund'ring  Country  Beau. 


He 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  233 

He  had  shown  her  all 

The  Lodgings,  great  and  small ; 

The  Tower,  the  Bower, 

The  Green,  the  Queen, 
And  fam'd  St.  GeorgJs  Hall : 

Lastly  brought  her  here, 
To  court  her  for  his  Dear  ; 

To  Wed  and  Bed, 

And  swore  he  had, 
A  thousand  Pound  a  Year. 

Mony  the  crew 

Of  Sots,  think  all  must  do  ; 

And  now  this  Fool, 

Unlearn'd  at  School, 
It  seems  believes  so  too  : 

But  the  rare  Girl, 
More  worth  than  Gold  or  Pearl, 

Was  Nobly  got, 

And  brought,  and  Taught, 
To  slight  the  sordid  World. 

She  then  brisk  and  gay, 
That  lov'd  a  Tuneful  Lay, 

In  hast  pull'd  out, 

Her  little  Flute, 
And  bad  him  Sing  or  Play ; 

He  both  Arts  defy'd, 
And  she  as  quickly  cry'd ; 

Who  learnt  no  way, 

To  Sing  nor  Say, 
Shou'd  ne'er  make  her  a  Bride. 


An 


234  SONGS  Compieat, 


An  ODE,  or  Lyrical  Elegy,  or  Funeral 
ODE,  Written  in  Sorrow  ;  on  the  Death 
of  the  late  most  Excellent  and  much  La 
mented  Prince  GEORGE  of  Denmark. 

Sllvander,  Royal  by  his  birth, 
Divinely  good,  as  well  as  great ; 
'Mongst  all  the  Kingdoms  of  the  Earth, 

Chose  happy  Albion,  for  his  seat : 
The  Queen  of  Hearts,  and  Queen  of  Isles, 

Possest  him  of  their  Fertile  store  ; 
The  first  endear'd  him  with  her  smiles, 
The  last  gave  Ease,  and  wealthy  Ore  : 
Fame,  he  had  purchased  long  before, 
Say  Cherubins  that  sit  on  high, 
Ye  radiant  Inmates  of  the  Sky, 
Did  Heavn  e're  give  a  Mortal  more. 

Hark,  the  Celestials  answer  no, 

None,  more  the  powers  above  could  bless  ; 
Nor  'mongst  the  human  Race  below, 

E'er  stood  desart  in  higher  place  : 
'Twould  pose  the  Muses  to  extend, 

On  such  extream  of  worth  their  praise  ; 
The  noblest  Master,  truest  Friend, 

The  tend'rest  Husband,  Ancient  days 

Replete,  with  Conjugal  Essays, 

Can  scarce  so  just  a  pattern  shew, 
Much  less,  Licentious  rovers  now, 

To  vertuous  Love,  such  Altars  raise. 

The  Gracious  Flora,  pain'd  with  fear, 
Who  knew  all  days  had  Mortal  date  ; 

That  he  might  stay  for  ever  here, 

Made  league  with  every  Power,  but  Fate, 

That 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  235 

That  barbrous  Tyrant,  Foe  to  th'  Good, 

The  Wise,  the  Vertuous,  and  the  Brave ; 
Her  pious  Zeal,  and  Prayers  withstood 
And  still  the  more  she  press'd  to  crave 
A  Grant,  might  lov'd  Silvander  save  : 
The  more  was  urg'd  to  a  degree, 
His  doom  of  frail  Mortality, 
That  sunk  his  Glory  to  the  Grave. 

The  dark  recess,  to  which  all  go, 

That  breathe  upon  this  Earthly  ball ; 
And  now  the  Royal  Flora's  woe, 

Admits  no  Patient  interval : 
Tears  from  her  Eyes  incessant  fall, 

The  State  affairs  too,  weigh  her  down  ; 
To  none,  she  can  for  comfort  call, 

The  Partner  of  her  Cares  is  gone, 

Who  caus'd  her  oft  to  cease  her  moan, 

Whilst  Grief,  that  precious  Life  decays, 
And  Sighs,  such  storms  in  Britain  raise, 
As  shakes  the  Nation  from  the  Throne. 

Rest  then  great  Prince,  Sleep,  sleep  in  peace, 

Reliev'd  from  Vice,  and  Mortal  care  : 
Whilst  we,  that  pine  in  Life's  disease, 

Our  fading  Joys,  less  happy  are  : 
Translated  thus,  from  Earth  to  Heaven, 

Thy  blissful  Transports  hourly  grow, 
Whilst  we  by  Passions  toss'd  and  driven, 

Live  wretched  in  this  Vale  of  woe  : 
But  if  our  State,  some  glimpse  of  Comfort  shew, 
We're  only  blest,  since  so  much  Worth  must  die, 
To  have  the  skill,  in  sacred  Verse,  still  to  preserve  thy 
Memory. 


236  SONGS  Compleat, 

A  DIALOGUE  Sung  at  a  Play,  by  a  Eunuch 
Boy,  and  a  Girl. 

She.  T^LY,  fly  from  my  sight,  fly  far  away, 

±      My  scorn  thou'lt  only  purchase  by  thy  stay, 

Away,  away,  away  fond  Fool  away. 
He.   Dear,  dear  Angel  no, 

Here  on  this  place  i'll  rooted  grow, 

Those  pretty,  pretty  Eyes, 

Has  charm'd  me  so, 

I  Cannot,  cannot  stir,  I  cannot,  cannot  go. 
She.  Thou  Silly,  silly  creature,  be  advis'd, 

And  do  not,  do  not  stay  to  be  despis'd ; 

By  all  my  Actions,  thou  may'st  see, 

My  Heart  can  spare  no  room  for  thee. 
He.   Why,  why  dost  thou  hate  me,  ah,  confess 

Thou  sweet  disposer  of  my  Joys  ? 

Why  I  can  Kiss,  and  I  can  play, 
And  tell  a  thousand  pretty  tales  ; 

Can  Sing,  can  sing  the  livelong  day, 

If  any  other  Talent  fails. 
She.  Boast  not  thy  Musick,  for  I  fear, 

Thy  singing  Gift,  has  cost  thee  dear  ; 

Each  warbling  Linnet  on  the  Tree 

Has  far  a  better  Fate  than  thee  : 

For  they  Life's  happy  pleasures  prove, 

As  they  can  sing,  so  they  can  Love. 
He.  Why  so  can  I, 
She.  No,  no,  no  poor  Boy : 
He.  Why,  why  cannot  I  ? 
She.  The  reason  is,  I  only  guess 

There's  something  in  thy  Face  and  Voice, 

That  thou'rt  not  made  like  other  Boys, 

No,  no  poor  Boy. 
He.   Pray  do  but  try,  do  but  try,  &c. 

I  know  no  reason,  no  reason  why  ? 
She.  You  know,  you  know,  you  know  you  Lye. 

The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  237 


The  Bonny  Milk-Maid.     Sung  in  my  Play 
of  Don  Quixote. 


Ye 


238  SONGS  Compleat, 

YE  Nymphs  and  Sylvian  Gods, 
That  love  green  Fields  and  Woods ; 
When  Spring  newly  blown, 
Her  self  does  adorn, 
With  Flowers  and  blooming  buds  : 
Come  sing  in  the  praise, 
Whilst  Flocks  do  graze, 
In  yonders  pleasant  Vale  ; 
Of  those  that  choose, 
Their  Sleep  to  lose, 
And  in  cold  Dews, 
With  clouted  Shoes, 
Do  carry  the  Milking  Pail. 
The  Goddess  of  the  Morn, 
With  blushes  they  adorn  ; 
And  take  the  fresh  Air, 
Whilst  Linnets  prepare, 
A  consort  on  each  green  Thorn  : 
The  Blackbird  and  Thrush, 
On  every  bush, 

And  the  charming  Nightingale  ; 
In  merry  vein, 
Their  throats  do  strain, 
To  entertain, 
The  jolly  train, 
That  carry  the  Milking  PaiL 
When  cold  bleak  Winds  do  roar, 
And  Flowers  can  spring  no  more  ; 
The  Fields  that  were  seen, 
So  pleasant  and  green, 
By  Winter  all  candid  o'er  : 
Oh  how  the  Town  Lass, 
Looks  with  her  white  Face, 
And  her  Lips  of  deadly  pale  ; 
But  it  is  not  so, 
With  those  that  go, 
Thro'  Frost  and  Snow, 
With  Cheeks  that  glow, 
To  carry  the  Milking  Pail. 

The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  239 

The  Miss  of  Courtly  mould, 
Adorn'd  with  Pearl  and  Gold ; 
With  washes  and  Paint, 
Her  Skin  does  so  taint, 
She's  wither'd  before  she's  Old  : 
Whilst  she  in  Commode, 
Puts  on  a  Cart  load, 
And  with  Cushions  plumps  her  tail ; 
What  Joys  are  found, 
In  Russet  Gown, 
Young,  plump  and  round, 
And  sweet  and  sound, 
That  carry  the  Milking  Pail. 
The  Girls  of  Venus  Game, 
That  ventures  Health  and  Fame  ; 
In  practising  feats, 
With  Colds  and  with  Heats, 
Make  lovers  grow  Blind  and  Lame : 
If  Men  were  so  Wise, 
To  value  the  prise, 
Of  the  Wares  most  fit  for  Sale  ; 
What  store  of  Beaus, 
Would  daub  their  Cloaths 
To  save  a  Nose, 
By  following  those, 
That  carry  the  Milking  Pail. 
The  Country  Lad  is  free, 
From  fears  and  Jealousie  ; 
When  upon  the  Green, 
He  is  often  seen, 
With  his  Lass  upon  his  Knee ; 
With  Kisses  most  sweet, 
He  does  her  greet, 
And  swears  she'll  ne'er  grow  stale  ; 
Whilst  the  London  Lass, 
In  e'ery  place, 
With  her  brazen  Face, 
Despises  the  grace, 
Of  those  with  the  Milking  Pail. 


240 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  Rapture  on  Albion  and  Cselia. 


W--  E*^L 


==F=I 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


241 


RAptures  attending  dwellers  Divine, 
Can  ne'er  be  transcending  Albion's  and  mine 
Fame's  noble  story  Charms  her  fair  Isle, 
And  I  as  much  Glory  in  Ccelia's  smile ; 
Victory  rears  her  conquering  Cross, 
Whilst  France  in  Tears  bewails  her  sad  loss. 

Raptures  attending  dwellers  Divine, 

Can  ne'er  be  transcending  Albion's  and  mine ; 

Conquest  Triumphant  too,  comes  from  the  Sea, 

Thus  Fate  blesses  Albion,  and  Ccelia  me. 

Raptures  attending  dwellers  Divine, 

Can  ne'er  be  transcending  Albion's  and  mine. 


VOL.  I. 


On 


242 


SONGS  Compleat, 


On  the  Glorioiis  Victory  lately  won  by  that 
Wondrous  Hero  Prince  Eugene,  over 
the  Turkish  Army. 


Fate 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  243 

"TT7ATE  had  design'd  this  worst  of  all  Ages, 
,          For  Christian  Valour  a  glorious  doom  ; 
This  the  Grand  Signior's  prowess  inrages, 

Who  thought  a  Million  would  soon  o'ercome  : 
Mahomet  sent  the  great  Mufti  a  Vision, 
How  all  the  Germans  bemoan'd  their  Condition, 
Squadrons  were  scanted, 
Officers  wanted, 
Only  Eugene  for  Christendom. 

Two  Hundred  thousand  made  the  Turks  Army, 

Three  quarters  more  then  in  Fight  prevail ; 
Not  so  the  Germans  who  could  alarm  ye, 

Only  with  Valour  when  forces  fail : 
Now  the  Grand  Vizier  his  Musselmen  treating, 
Swore  the  poor  handfuls  were  scarce  worth  his  beating, 
But  not  performing, 
Brave  Eugene  storming, 
All  ran  away  from  proud  Horse-tails. 

Now  soars  the  Cross,  and  now  flys  the  Cressent, 

Thousands  now  wait  the  Victorious  prize  ; 
Now  bloody  Wounds  and  groans  are  incessant, 

Now  the  bold  Vizier  dispairing  dies  : 
Farewel  the  Grandure  of  Ottoman  power, 
Thinking  the  brightness  of  Christians  to  lower 
Brave  Eugene's  story, 
Blooms  with  fresh  Glory, 
Whilst  Christendom  old  Faith  enjoys. 


KWot? 

%i 


R    2 


244 


SONGS  Comp leafy 


A  Dialogue  between  Teague  an  Irish  Priest 
and  the  Arch-bishop  of  Paris,  on  the  taking 
0/"Tournay,  and  the  State  of  the  French 
affairs.  The  Words  made  to  an  Irish 
Tune. 


Teague. 

HARK  Lewis  groans,  good  Fador  wat  ailsh  him, 
None  of  our  loud  Te-Deums  availsh  him  ; 
Creesh  shave  my  Showl  by  Trumpets  and  Drumming, 
The  Raison's  plain  now  great  Marlborough  is  coming : 
Yough  hone  o  hone. 

Bishop. 

Leave  off  your  howle  you  seemple  Bogtrotter, 
Vat  can  me  do  in  tings  of  dis  nature  ; 
Get  you  to  Mass  and  dose  matters  handle, 
To  Curse  him  back  vid  your  bell  Book  and  Candle : 
Ah  Jernie  bleiw. 

Teague 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  245 

Teague. 

Patrick  our  Shaint  successes  delaying, 
Curshing  will  do  no  more  good  than  Praying ; 
Dreadful  Eugene  the  Deevil  sure  carrys, 
Now  Tournay1^  taken  he'll  soon  come  to  Paris  : 
Yogh  hone  o  hone. 

Bishop. 

If  dey  go  on  as  now  dey'r  beginning, 
Routing  our  Troops  and  Towns  daily  winning  ; 
If  in  dey'r  Lines  our  Army  lyes  Sleeping, 
Adiew  de  Gold  we  so  long  have  been  heaping : 
Ah  Jernie  bleiw. 

Teague. 

Dis  by  my  Showl's  de  fruit  of  Ambition, 
Wee'r  by  his  Pride  in  woful  condition  ; 
He  must  be  making  Kings  of  Welch  Princes, 
A  plague  upon't  he  has  quite  lost  his  Shences : 
Yogh  hone  o  hone. 

Bishop. 

Dis  comes  of  Plots  with  Sweden  combining, 
And  of  proposing  Peace  and  not  signing ; 
Dey'r  Gen'rals  now  such  Anger  discover, 
Dey'l  sure  demand  both  Versails  and  de  Louvre  : 
Ah  Jernie  bleiw. 

Teague. 

Burgundy's  Mad  dat  Fool  has  undon  us, 
Savoy's  the  same  who  now  seems  to  shun  us ; 
Berwick  is  sent  out  to  seek  his  undoing, 
Tallard  strong  Ale  for  Villiars  is  Brewing : 
Yogh  hone  o  hone. 

Ad- 


246 


SONGS  Compleat, 


Advice  to  the  City,  a  famous  SONG,  set  to  a 
Tune  of  Signior  Opdar,  so  remarkable, 
that  I  had  the  Honour  to  Sing  it  with 
King  CHARLES  at  Windsor ;  He  holding 
one  part  of  the  Paper  with  Me. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  247 


.._,t  P_g*      -^_M^-^^_ 


' — I — I — h_      4qcp prui^t^-r-  =1 — i^tf 

r;fegt=SEfsEfe3eE£§ 


248  SONGS  Compleat, 


R Em  ember  ye  Whiggs  what  was  formerly  done, 
Remember  your  Mischiefs  in  Forty  and  (9«^ ; 
When  Friend  oppos'd  Friend,  and  Father  the  Son, 
Then,  then  the  Old  Cause,  went  rarely  on  ; 
The  Cap  sat  aloft,  and  low  was  the  Crown, 
The  Rabble  got  up,  and  the  Nobles  went  down : 

Lay  Elders  in  Tubs, 

Rul'd  JBishops  in  Robes, 

Who  mourn'd  the  sad  Fate, 

And  dreadful  disaster, 

Of  their  Royal  Master, 

By  Rebels  betray'd. 

Then  London  be  wise  and  baffle  their  Power ; 
And  let  them  play  the  old  game  no  more; 
Hang,  hang  tip  the  SherrirTs  those  Baboons  in  pow'r, 
Those  popular  Thieves,  those  Rats  of  the  Tower ; 
Whose  Canting  tale  the  Rable  believes  in  a  hurry, 
And  never  sorry,  merrily  they  still  go  on  ; 
Fie  for  shame,  we're  too  tame,  since  they  claim 
The  combat,  Tan  ta  ra  ra  ra,  tan  ta  ra  ra  ra, 
Dub,  a  dub,  a  Itt  the  Drum  beat,  the  strong  Militia 
Guards  the  Throne. 

When  Faction  possesses  the  popular  voice, 

The  cause  is  supply'd  still  with  nonsence  and  noise, 

And  Tony,  their  Speaker,  the  Rable  leads  on, 

He  knows  if  we  prosper  that  he  must  run ; 

Carolina  must  be  his  next  station  of  ease, 

And  London  be  rid  of  her  worst  disease ; 

From 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  249 

From  Plots  and  from  Spies, 
From  Treason  and  Lies, 
We  shall  ever  be  free ; 
And  the  Law  shall  be  able, 
To  punish  a  Rebel, 

As  cunning  as  he  : 
Then  London,  &c. 

Rebellion  ne'er  wanted  a  Loyal  pretence, 

These  Villains  swear  all's  for  the  good  of  their  Prince  ; 

Oppose  our  Elections,  to  shew  what  they  dare, 

And  loosing  their  Charter  Arrest  the  Mayor  ; 

Fool  Je — ks  was  the  first  o'  th'  Cuckoldly  crew, 

With  Ell—s  and  Jea—kll  and  Hub—lnd  the  jew ; 

Fam'd  Sparks  of  the  Town, 

For  Wealth  and  Renown, 
Give  the  Devil  his  due, 

And  such  as  we  fear, 

Had  their  Soveraign  been  their, 

Had  Arrested  him  too  : 
Then  London,  &c. 


The  MOUSE  Trap.  Made  to  a  comical  Tune 
in  the  Country  Wake. 


2  50  SONGS  Compleat, 


OF  all  the  simple  things  we  do, 
To  rub  over  a  Whimsical  Life  ; 
There's  no  one  Folly  is  so  true, 

As  that  very  bad  Bargain  a  Wife  ; 
We'er  just  like  a  Mouse  in  a  Trap, 

Or  Vermin  caught  in  a  Gin  ; 
We  Sweat  and  Fret,  and  try  to  Escape, 
And  Curse  the  sad  Hour  we  came  in. 

I  Gam'd  and  Drank,  and  play'd  the  Fool, 

And  a  Thousand  Mad  frolicks  more ; 
I  Rov'd  and  Rang'd,  despis'd  all  Rule, 

But  I  never  was  Married  before  ; 
This  was  the  worst  Plague  could  ensue, 

I'm  Mew'd  in  a  smoky  House  ; 
I  us'd  to  Tope  a  Bottle  or  two, 

But  now  'tis  small  Beer  with  my  Spouse. 

My  darling  Freedom  crown'd  my  joys, 

And  I  never  was  vext  in  my  way  ; 
If  now  I  cross  her  Will  her  Voice, 

Makes  my  Lodging  too  hot  for  my  stay ; 
Like  a  Fox  that  is  hamper'd  in  vain, 

I  fret  out  my  Heart  and  Soul ; 
Walk  to  and  fro  the  length  of  my  Chain, 

Then  forc'd  to  Creep  into  my  Hole. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five,  251 

A  Scotch  SONG,  Sung  by  Mr.  Leveridge. 


-P- 


SONGS  Compleat, 


FAreweel  my  Bonny,  bonny  witty,  pretty  Moggy, 
And  aw  the  Rosie  Lasses,  Milking  on  the  Down, 
Adiew  the  flow'ry  Meadows,  late  so  dear  to  Jockey, 
The  sports  and  merry  glee  of  Edinborough  Town  : 
Since  French  and  Spanish  loons,  stand  at  Bay, 
And  Valiant  Lads  of  Britain  hold  'em  play, 
My  Reap-huke,  I  mun  throw  quite  away ; 
And  Fight  too  like  a  Man, 
Among  'em  for  our  Royal  Queen  Ann. 

Each  Carl  of  Irish  mettle  battles  like  a  Dragon, 
The  German  waddles,  and  straddles  to  the  Drum ; 

The  Italian  and  the  butter  bowzy  Hogan  Mogan, 
Gud  feth  then  Scottish  Jockey  may  not  ligg  at  home  ; 

For  since  their  ganging  to  Hunt  renown, 

And  swear  they'll  quickly  ding  the  Mounsieur  down ; 

Ise  follow  for  a  pluck  at  his  Crown, 

To  shew  that  Scotland  can, 

Excel  'em  for  our  Royal  Queen  Ann. 

2d  Movement. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  253 


THEN  welcome  from 
And  Cudgeling  Don  Diego, 
With  bouger  Rascallion, 
And  Plund'ring  the  Galleoons ; 
Each  brisk  Valiant  fellow, 
Fought  at  Rodondellow, 
And  those  who  did  meet, 
With  the  Newfound-Land  Fleet ; 
Then  for  late  Successes, 
Which  Europe  Confesses, 
At  Land  by  our  galliant  Commanders ; 
The  Dutch  in  strong  Beer, 
Shou'd  be  Drunk  for  one  Year, 
With  their  General's  Health,  in  Flanders. 


The 


254 


SONGS  Compleat, 


The  Scotch  Cuckold:  A  New  SONG  to  a 
Northern  Tune. 


TWanty  Years  and  mear  at  Edinlorrow  Jockey 
liv'd  Unmarry'd, 

At  last  he  would  to  London  gang,  and  there  the  silly 
Loon  miscarry'd ; 

Whily 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


255 


Whily  Kate  the  Brown,  the  Plump, 
The  Frowzy  Browzy, 
Hoyty  Toyty, 
Gw^/-Garden  Harridan, 
Soon  made  poor  Jockey's  Head  to  Ake, 
And  spoyl'd  him  for  a  merry  Man. 

Wae  is  me  he  cry'd,  that  ever  I  should  change  my  free 

Condition, 

The  Quean  my  Wife  will  gad  abroad,  whilst  I  meet 
e'ry  where  Derision  ; 

I  may  sigh  and  Pine  and  Whine, 
And  run  about, 
The  Town  about, 
Each  Hour  crying  Welladay, 
With  roaring  Boys  she  diverts  her  time, 
And  all  the  Week  makes  Holliday. 


The  First  SONG  in  the  Third  Act,  Sung 
by  Altisidora  to  Don  Quixote. 


256 


SONGS  Compleat, 


DAmon  turn  your  Eyes  to  me, 
Wither  simply  wou'd  you,  wou'd  you  lead  'em  ; 
Can  you,  can  you  think  another  she, 

Has   more  Charms,  has   more   Charms  than   I  to 

feed  'em  : 
He  that  leaves  a  Rosie,  rosie  Cheek, 

Lips  Vermillion  like  a  R^J)y  ; 
Blindly  coarser  fare  to  seek, 

Pox,  pox  upon  him  for  a  Booby. 

If  a  smile  the  Lover's  joy, 

Can  allure,  i'll  do't  divinely ; 
Or  d'ye  love  a  Sleepy  Eye, 

Here  is  one  can  Oagle  finely, 
Charms  wou'd  make  another  Man, 

Gaze  an  age,  I'll  shew  to  win  ye  ; 
And  when  I've  shewn  all  I  can, 

If  you  go,  the  Devil's  in  ye. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


257 


The  Poet's  Lyrical  Address  to  the  QUEEN. 
With  Remarks  on  the  present  Affairs,  and 
the  Happy  UNION  ;  broitght  to  perfection 
by  Her  Majesty,  being  on  Force  on  May 
the  First,  1717.  To  be  Said,  or  Sung  to 
a  Hiimourous  T^me  call'd  Green  Sleeves, 
and  is  also  Set  to  other  Musick,  by  One  of 
our  Best  Masters. 


VOL.  I. 


Whilst 


258  SONGS  Compleat, 

WHilst  favour'd  Bishops  new  Sleeves  put  on, 
And  Toleration  has  each  Non  Con  ; 
And  Courtiers  get  places  of  Gracious  Queen  Ann, 
All  bustling  in  every  Station  : 

A  Son  of  Ph&bus,  whose  Muse  oft  sings 
Our  Nation's  Glory,  with  other  Things, 
A  stanch  Loyal  Lover  of  Queens,  and  of  Kings, 
To  make  this  Address  takes  Occasion  : 

Oh  long  and  bright  may  your  Glory  shine, 
Great  Patroness  of  the  Tuneful  Nine, 
Who  all,  like  the  Vision  of  Pharoatis  Lean  Kine, 
Late  mourn'd  on  a  sad  Desolation  : 

But  now  they  flourish  in  Golden  Days, 
And  Bounty  showrs  on  Apollo  s  Race, 
Let  me  too  be  happy  in  Soveraign  Grace, 
Now  Britain  is  made  a  blest  Nation. 

Great  Marlborough,  who  for  the  Field  prepares, 
And  Loads  of  Lawrel  through  Flanders  bears ; 
Yet  are  not  in  weight  like  his  Annual  Cares, 
To  crown  his  late  Deeds  is  contriving. 

Then,  whether  Mounsieur  can  well  maintain 
What  to  half  Europe's  against  the  Grain, 
His  Grandson  young  Philip,  to  King  it  in  Spain, 
You'll  find  at  our  Forces  arriving. 

For  tho'  we  late  into  Feuds  did  grow, 
Some  for  the  High-Church,  and  some  the  Low, 
We  now  must  unite  to  drive  out  such  a  Foe 
By  Aids,  to  support  the  Invasion. 

Dull  Baden,  Fate,  has  casheer'd  at  last, 
Had  brave  Eugene  on  the  Rhine  been  plac'd, 
One  Hour  had  atton'd  for  an  Age  that  has  past, 
And  given  for  new  Trophies  Occasion. 

The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  259 

The  Crown's  Succession  is  past  all  fear, 
Great  Britain's  Kingdoms  have  fix'd  an  Heir, 
And  Princess  Sophia  runs  glib  in  Church-Prayer, 
Defying  all  Chances  hereafter : 

France  must  forgive  the  Welsh  Prince's  Score, 
For  him  to  bring  new  Pretensions  o'er ; 
Now  politick  Scotland  has  shut  her  Back-door, 
I  think  is  a  thing  worthy  Laughter. 

Since  Happy  Union,  all  Hearts  commands 
The  Plads,  and  Bonnets,  and  Cloak,  and  Bands, 
With  long  pleated  Cassock  must  join  and  shake  Hands, 
Most  Friendly  in  every  Station. 

Oh  Scotland,  Scotland,  old  Faults  we  wave, 
Thank  Royal  Ann  for  the  Prize  She  gave, 
Prove  Loyal,  and  truly  we  know  you  are  brave, 
Then  Britain  will  be  a  blest  Nation. 

Rejoice  then,  Caledonian  Sons, 
Sound  loud  your  Trumpets,  and  fire  your  Guns, 
Whilst  Dutyful  Thanks  the  swift  Season  out-runs, 
In  Volumes  of  Loyal  Addresses. 

Let  Edinborough  with  Praise  abound, 
The  Kirk  dole  Sanctified  Hymns  around, 
Whilst  Pauls  with  its  Organ  in  ravishing  Sound, 
Caelestial  Devotion  expresses. 

Tell  both  the  Poles  how  our  Glorious  Ann, 
A  Labour  several  Kings  began, 
Yet  fail'd  to  effect,  has  concluded,  and  done, 
T  Eternize  her  wonderful  Story. 

With  Albany  a  blest  Union  made, 
Increas'd  our  Power,  improv'd  their  Trade, 
And  taken  from  Mounsieur  the  Means  to  invade, 
Eclipsing  his  dazling  Vainglory, 
s  2 


260  SONGS  Compleat, 

Some  say  that  Belgia  mislikes  our  Dish, 
The  Union  relishes  not  their  Wish, 
Who  lately  by  provident  catching  our  Fish, 
Defray 'd  all  Dragooning  Expences. 

For  fear  vile  Int'rest  the  League  should  spoil, 
Since  Malice  Butter  can  turn  to  Oil, 
And  Honour  don't  grow  in  a  plashy,  cold  Soil, 
Let  Prudence  take  care  of  Defences. 

Th'  Hibernian  Wits,  who  no  Statesmen  are, 
Depend  upon  the  new  Viceroy's  Care, 
And  now,  mighty  Queen,  as  a  finishing  Prayer, 
Long  Live  in  your  Royal  Vocations  ; 

And  when  you  e'er  a  State  Game  begin, 
May  then  your  Trumps  come  all  pouring  in, 
For  never  had  Gamester  a  harder  to  win, 
Then  who  has  United  these  Nations. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


261 


»=pji=3=i-  n      -M— 


Right  was  the  Morning,  cool  was  the  Air, 

Serene  was  all  the  Sky ; 
en  on  the  Waves  I  left  my  dear, 
The  Center  of  my  joy  : 
Heaven  and  Nature  smiling  were, 
And  nothing  sad  but  I. 

Each  Rosie  Field  did  Odours  spread, 

All  Fragrant  was  the  shore ; 
Each  River  God  rose  from  his  Bed, 

And  sigh'd  and  own'd  her  power : 
Curling  their  Waves  they  deck'd  their  heads, 

As  proud  of  what  they  bore. 

So  when  the  fair  Egyptian  Queen, 

Her  Heroe  went  to  see  ; 
Cidnus  swell'd  o'er  his  Banks  in  pride, 

As  much  in  Love  as  he : 
Cidnus  swell'd,  &c. 

Glide  on  ye  waters,  bear  these  lines, 

And  tell  her  how  distress'd ; 
Bear  all  my  sighs  ye  gentle  winds, 

And  waft  'em  to  her  Breast : 
Tell  her  if  e'er  she  prove  unkind, 

I  never  shall  have  rest. 


T/ie 


262 


SONGS  Compleat, 


The  DISAPPOINTMENT. 


' 


THE  Clock  had  struck,  faith  I  cannot  tell  what, 
But  Morning  was  come  as  Grey  as  a  Cat ; 
Cocks  and  Hens  from  their  Roosts  did  fly, 
Grunting  Hogs  too  had  left  their  stye  ; 
When  in  a  Vale, 
Carrying  a  Pail, 

Sissly  her  new  Lover  met,  Dapper  Harry  ; 
First  they  Kiss'd, 
Then  shook  Fist, 
Then  talk'd  as  Fools  do  that  just  were  to  Marry. 

Zooks 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  263 

Zooks  cry'd  Hall,  I  can't  but  think, 
Now  we  are  come  to  Wedlock  brink  ; 
How  pure  a  stock  'twill  be  how  fine, 
When  you  put  your  good  mark  to  mine ; 

Siss  at  that, 

Glowing  hot, 
Buss'd  him  as  if  she'd  have  burnt  him  to  Tinder ; 

Thus  they  Woo, 

But  see  how, 
Damn'd  Fate  contriv'd  now  the  Bargain  to  hinder. 

Sissly  had  got  a  Cold  I  suppose, 
And  'twixt  her  Fingers  was  blowing  her  Nose  ; 
Harry,  that  Linnen  too  wanted  I  doubt, 
Lent  her  his  Glove,  to  serve  for  a  Clout ; 

Scraping  low, 

Manners  to  show, 
And  tell  her  how  much  he  was  her  adorer  : 

Pray  mark  the  Joke, 

Leather  thong  broke, 
And  Breeches  fell  down  to  his  Ancles  before  her. 

Sissly  who  saw  him  thus  distrest, 
Pulls  of  her  Garter  of  woolen  List ; 
And  with  a  sly  and  leering  look, 
Gave  it  to  mend  up  what  was  broke  ; 

Fumbling  he, 

Could  not  see, 
What  he  discover'd,  tho'  e'er  he  had  ty'd  all : 

For  just  before, 

Shirt  was  tore, 
And  as  the  Devil  would  have't  she  had  spy'd  all. 

She  gave  him  then  so  cold  a  Look, 
Discontent  it  plainly  spoke  ; 
And  running  from  him  near  a  Mile, 
He  overtook  her  at  a  stile  ; 

Too  much  hast, 

Milk  down  cast, 
And  topsy  turvy  she  fell  on  her  Pole  with't  : 

He 


264  SONGS  Compleat, 

He  seeing  that, 
Runs  with's  Hat, 
But  could  not  Cover  her  C for  his  soul  with't. 

Have  you  not  seen  at  Noon  of  Day, 
The  Sun  his  glorious  Face  display  ; 
So  Sissly  shone  with  Beauty's  Rays, 
Reflecting  from  her  Postern  grace  ; 

Till  at  last 

Strugling  past, 
Wide  sprawling  Legs  were  again  set  in  order : 

But  poor  Hall, 

Since  her  fall, 
Stood  just  like  one  was  found  guilty  of  Murder. 

The  God  of  Love,  or  else  old  Nick, 
Sure  had  design'd  this  Devilish  trick, 
To  make  the  Bridegroom  and  the  Bride ; 
With  themselves  dissatisfy'd ; 

She  grown  coy, 

Call'd  him  Boy, 
He  getting  from  her  cry'd  Zoons  you'r  a  rouzer  : 

Foh,  she  cry'd, 

By  things  spy'd, 
She  had  as  live  a  meer  Baby  should  espouse  her. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


265 


THE 


SONGS 

AND 

DIALOGUES 


In  the  First  and  Second  Part  of  Mas- 
saniello.  The  First  SONG  Set  by  Mr. 
Daniel  Purcell. 


266  SONGS  Compleat, 


YOung  Philander  woo'd  me  long, 
I  was  peevish  and  forbid  him  ; 
Nor  would  hear  his  loving  Song, 

And  yet  now  I  wish,  I  wish  I  had  him 
For  each  Morn  I  view  my  Glass, 

I  perceive  the  Whim  is  going ; 
For  when  Wrinkles  streak  the  Face, 

We  may  bid  farewel  to  Wooing. 
For  when  Wrinkles  streak  the  Face, 

We  may  bid  farewel  to  Wooing. 

Use  your  time  ye  Virgins  fair, 

Choose  before  your  days  are  Evil ; 
Fifteen  is  a  Season  rare, 

Five  and  Forty  is  the  Devil : 
Just  when  Ripe  consent  to  do't, 

Hug  no  more  the  lonely  Pillow ; 
Women  like  some  other  Fruit, 

Loose  their  relish  when  too  Mellow. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  267 


The  Fisherman  s  SONG,  In  the  First  Part, 
0/Massaniello.     Set  by  Mr.  Leveridge. 


Of 


268  SONGS  Compleat, 

OF  all  the  World's  Enjoyments, 
That  ever  valu'd  were  ; 
There's  none  of  our  Employments, 
With  Fishing  can  Compare  : 
Some  Preach,  some  Write, 
Some  Swear,  some  Fight, 
All  Golden  Lucre  courting, 

But  Fishing  still  bears  off  the  Bell ; 
For  Profit  or  for  Sporting. 

Then  who  a  Jolly  Fisherman,  a  Fisherman  will  be  ? 
His  Throat  must  wet, 
Just  like  his  Net, 
To  keep  out  Cold  at  Sea. 

The  Country  Squire  loves  Running, 

A  Pack  of  well-mouth'd  Hounds  ; 
Another  fancies  Gunning 

For  wild  Ducks  in  his  Grounds  : 
This  Hunts,  that  Fowls, 
This  Hawks,  Dick  Bowls, 
No  greater  Pleasure  wishing, 

But  Tom  that  tells  what  Sport  excells, 
Gives  all  the  Praise  to  lushing, 

Then  who,  &c. 

A  good  Westphalia  Gammon, 

Is  counted  dainty  Fare ; 
But  what  is't  to  a  Salmon, 

Just  taken  from  the  Ware  : 
Wheat  Ears  and  Quailes, 
Cocks,  Snipes,  and  Rayles  ; 
Are  priz'd  while  Season's  lasting, 

But  all  must  stoop  to  Crawfish  Soop, 
Or  I've  no  skill  in  tasting. 

Then  who,  &c. 

Keen  Hunters  always  take  too 

Their  prey  with  too  much  pains  ; 
Nay  often  break  a  Neck  too, 

A  Pennance  for  no  Brains  : 

They 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  269 

They  Run,  they  Leap, 

Now  high,  now  deep, 

Whilst  he  that  Fishing  chooses  ; 

With  ease  may  do't,  nay  more  to  boot, 
May  entertain  the  Muses. 

Then  who,  &c. 
And  tho'  some  envious  wranglers, 

To  jeer  us  will  make  bold  ; 
And  Laugh  at  Patient  Anglers, 
Who  stand  so  long  i'  th'  Cold  : 
They  wait  on  Miss, 
We  wait  on  this, 
And  think  it  easie  Labour ; 

And  if  you'd  know,  Fish  profits  too, 
Consult  our  Holland  Neighbour. 
Then  who,  &c. 


A  New  SONG,  Made  in  honour  of  his  Grace 
the  Duke  0/Marlborough,  and  the  General 
Officers,  iipon  the  Glories  success  of  this 
last  Campaign.  Set  by  Mr.  J.  Weldon. 

BEat  the  Drum,  Beat,  beat  the  Drum, 
Let  Martial  Trumpets  sound ; 
The  jolly  Bowl  prepare, 

With  fragrant  Roses  Crown'd  : 
The  Grand  Leviathan  of  France  is  Tumbling  down, 
Tumbling  down,  is  tumbling,  tumbling  down ; 
Lawrel  wreaths  for  Glorious  pains, 
Once  more  great  Mar  thorough, great  Mar  thorough  Gains : 
Thus  whilst  Conquer'd,  whilst  conquer'd  Flanders  falls, 
Proud  Orleans,  from  Turin's  Walls, 
Is  like  a  Vapour  gone. 
The  Mounsieur's  mawl'd  by  Sea  and  Land, 
Then  take  six  Bumpers  in  a  Hand ; 
To  each  brave  Brittish  Son, 
They,  they  the  Work  have  done, 
They,  they  the  Work  have  done. 

A 


270 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  DIALOGUE  between  a  Town  Sharper  and 
his  Hostess,  Sung  by  Mr.  Leveridge  and 
Mr.  Pate ;  in  the  first  Part.  Set  by 
Mr.  Daniel  Purcell. 

Sharp. 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  271 


Host. 


Jl_. A  «  £ t     p 

Sfcpi^EE^^FtEp:^±  EfE?fr 
IS     I    ^  ^J3E 


Sharp. 


272  SONGS  Compleat, 

Sharp.  T  T  7"Hilst|wretchedFools  sneak  up  and  down, 
\  V     Play  hide  and  seek  about  the  Town  ; 
Deprest  by  Debts,  and  Fortune's  Frown, 

By  Duns  to  keep  in  awe : 
When  ever  my  occasions  call, 
And  'mongst  my  Creditors  I  fall ; 
I've  one  fine  Song  that  Pays  'em  all, 
Fa,  /a,  &c. 

Host.  Good  Morrow  Sir,  I'm  glad  to  see, 
Your  Humour  is  so  brisk  and  free ; 
I  hope  the  better  'tis  for  me, 

If  you  your  Purse  will  draw  : 
Y'have  been  two  Years  at  Bed  and  Board, 
And  I,  Lord  help  me,  took  your  Word ; 
But  now  must  have  what  here  is  scor'd, 
For  all  your  Fa,  /a,  la,  la,  &c. 

Sharp.  My  Purse  sweet  Hostess  is  but  lank, 
But  I  have  something  else  in  Bank ; 
And  you  at  Home  I'll  kindly  thank, 

WTith  charming  sweet  Sol  fa  : 
We'll  sit  and  Chaunt  from  Morn  to  Noon, 
No  Nightingale  in  May  or  June; 
Did  ever  Sing  so  fine  a  Tune, 
As  Fa,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 

Host.    You  take  me  for  an  Ideot  sure, 

Will  this  fine  Tune  my  Debt  secure ; 
Or  Pay  my  Baker  and  my  Brewer, 

Or  keep  me  from  the  Law : 
To  buy  your  Shirts  there's  Money  lent, 
Besides  in  Meat  and  Drink  more  spent  • 
And  can  you  think  I  pay  my  Rent, 
With  Fa,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 

Sharp.  I'll  teach  thee  such  a  pretty  Song, 

Shall  please  the  Rich,  Poor,  Old,  and  Young  ; 
Get  thee  a  Husband  Stout  and  Strong, 
Some  Country  Rich  Jack-Daw  : 

Nay 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


273 


Nay,  more  I'll  bring  to  quitmy  Scores, 
A  crew  of  Toping  Sons  of  Whores, 
Shall  Drink  all  Night  and  charm  the  Hours, 
With  Fa,  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 

Host.    Ye  cunning  Rogue  this  weedling  talk, 
You  fancy  will  rub  out  my  Chalk  ; 
But  I  your  sly  design  will  baulk, 

When  you  to  Jayl  I  draw  : 
Your  boasted  Song's  a  foolish  thing, 
For  do  but  you  the  Money  bring ; 
You'll  find  I  can  already  Sing, 

Fa  la,  la,  la,  la,  la,  &c. 

Sharp. 


Host. 


274 


SONGS  Compleat, 


Sharp.  Well  since  Dame  Fortune  is  my  Foe, 
And  that  I  must  to  Prison  go ; 
Let's  have  a  Neat  frisk  or  so, 

And  then  rub  on  the  Law : 
Host.    Well  since  you're  on  the  merry  Pin, 
And  make  so  slight  the  Counter-Gin  ; 
I'll  do't,  and  let  the  Tune  begin, 
With  Fa,  la,  &c. 


They  DANCE. 


Sharp.  Host. 


Sharp. 


------       ^^ |  ^  --  ft 


* 


-d-»- 


Host. 


.Sharp. 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  275 

Sharp.  Host. 


Sharp.  Has  not  my  Dance  ill  Humour  Charm'd, 
.#"<?.$•/.    I  must  confess  my  Blood  is  warm'd  : 
Sharp.  And  Heart  I  hope  by  Love  alarm'd, 

To  Laugh  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha : 
Host.    You  think  you've  catch'd  me  now  I  smile, 
Sharp.  No  that  i'll  do  at  Night  dear  Child  ; 
Host.    Well  I'll  the  Bayliffs  stop  a  while, 

To  try  your  Fa,  la,  la,  &c. 


3** 


T    2 


Ihe 


276 


SONGS  Compleat, 


The  Winchester    Wedding ;    or  Ralph   of 
Redding,  and  black  Bess  of  the  Green. 


A   T  Winchester  was  a  Wedding, 
jT^     The  like  was  never  seen, 
Twixt  lusty  .fo^  of  Redding, 

And  bonny  black  Bess  of  the 


The 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  277 

The  Fidllers  were  Crouding  before, 

Each  Lass  was  as  fine  as  a  Queen ; 
There  was  a  Hundred  and  more, 

For  all  the  Country  came  in  : 
Brisk  Robin  led  Rose  so  fair, 

She  look'd  like  a  Lilly  o'th'  Vale  ; 
And  Ruddy  Fac'd  Harry  led  Mary, 

And  Roger  led  bouncing  Nell. 

With  Tommy  came  smiling  Katy, 

He  help'd  her  over  the  Stile  ; 
And  swore  there  was  none  so  pretty, 

In  forty,  and  forty  long  Mile  : 
Kit  gave  a  Green-Gown  to  Betty, 

And  lent  her  his  Hand  to  rise  ; 
But  Jenny  was  jeer'd  by  Watty, 

For  looking  blue  under  the  Eyes  : 
Thus  merrily  Chatting  all, 

They  pass'd  to  the  Bride-house  along ; 
With  Johnny  and  pretty  fac'd  Nanny, 

The  fairest  of  all  the  throng. 

The  Bride  came  out  to  meet  'em, 

Afraid  the  Dinner  was  spoil'd  ; 
And  usher'd  'em  in  to  treat  'em, 

With  BaKd,  and  Roasted,  and  BoiFd: 
T4he  Lads  were  so  frolick  and  jolly, 

For  each  had  his  Love  by  his  side ; 
But  Willy  was  Melancholy, 

For  he  had  a  Mind  to  the  Bride : 
Then  Philip  begins  her  Health, 

And  turns  a  Beer  Glass  on  his  Thumb ; 
But  Jenkin  was  reckon'd  for  Drinking, 

The  best  in  Christendom. 

And  now  they  had  Din'd,  advancing 

Into  the  midst  of  the  Hall-, 
The  Fidlers  struck  up  for  Dancing, 

And  Jeremy  led  up  the  Brawl : 

But 


278  SONGS  Compleat, 

But  Margery  kept  a  quarter, 

A  Lass  that  was  proud  of  her  Pelf, 
Cause  Arthur  had  stolen  her  Garter, 

And  swore  he  would  tie  it  himself : 
She  struggl'd,  and  blush'd,  and  frown'd, 

And  ready  with  Anger  to  cry ; 
'Cause  Arthur  with  tying  her  Garter, 

Had  slip'd  his  Hand  too  high. 

And  now  for  throwing  the  Stocking, 

The  Bride  away  was  led  ; 
The  Bridegroom  got  Drunk  and  was  knocking, 

For  Candles  to  light  'em  to  Bed  : 
But  Robin  that  found  him  Silly, 

Most  friendly  took  him  aside  ; 
The  while  that  his  Wife  with  Willy, 

Was  playing  at  Hoopers-hide  : 
And  now  the  warm  Game  begins, 

The  Critical  Minute  was  come  ; 
And  chatting,  and  Billing,  and  Kissing, 

Went  merrily  round  the  Room. 

Pert  Stephen  was  kind  to  Betty, 

And  blith  as  a  Bird  in  the  Spring ; 
And  Tommy  was  so  to  Katy, 

And  Wedded  her  with  a  Rush  Ring : 
Sukey  that  Danc'd  with  the  Cushion, 

An  Hour  from  the  Room  had  been  gone  ; 
And  Barnaby  knew  by  her  Blushing, 

That  some  other  Dance  had  been  done  : 
And  thus  of  Fifty  fair  Maids, 

That  came  to  the  Wedding  with  Men  ; 
Scarce  Five  of  the  Fifty  was  left  ye, 

That  so  did  return  again. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


279 


A  SONG,  Sung  by  a  Fop  newly  come  from 
France. 


-0- '  -P-  -9-     A  /""•          '^^"^        -0-°-£--9- 


AH  !  Phillis  why  are  you  less  tender, 
To  my  despairing  Amore  ! 
Your  Heart  you  have  promis'd  to  tender, 

Do  not  deny  the  Retour  : 
My  Passion  I  cannot  defender, 
No,  no  Torments  encrease  /0«f  /«•  Jour. 

To  forget  your  kind  Slave  is  cruelk, 

Can  you  expect  my  Devoir ; 
Since  Phillis  is  grown  infidelle, 

And  wounds  me  at  every  Revoir  ! 
Those  Eyes  which  were  once  agreeable, 

Now,  now  are  Fountains  of  black  Des  espoire. 

Adieu  to  my  false  Esperance, 

Adieu  les  Plaisirs  des  beaux  Jours ; 

My  Phillis  appears  at  distance, 

And  slights  my  unfeigned  Efforts : 

To  return  to  her  Vows  impossible, 

No,  no  adieu  to  the  Cheats  of  Amours. 


280 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG. 


GReat  y<?z>£  once  made  Love  like  a  Bull,  (a  Bull) 
With  Leda  a  Swan  was  in  Vogue ; 
And  to  persevere  in  that  Rule,  (that  Rule) 
He  now  does  Descend  like  a  Dog : 

For 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  2  8 1 

For  when  I  to  Celia  would  speak, 

And  on  her  Breast  sigh  what  I  mean  ; 

My  Heart-Strings  are  ready  to  break, 

For  their  I  find  Mounsieur  Le  Chien,  (Le  Chien,} 

Le  Chien,  Mounsieur,  Mounsieur  Le  Chien). 

For  knowledge  of  Modish  Intrigues, 

Or  managing  well  an  Amour ; 
I  defie  any  one  with  two  Legs, 

But  here  I  am  Rivall'd  by  four : 
Distracted  all  Night  with  my  Wrongs, 

I  cry,  Cruel  Gods  !  what  d'ye  mean ! 
That  what  to  my  Merit  belongs, 

You  bestow  upon  Mounsieur  Le  Chien. 

For  Feature,  or  Niceness  in  Dress, 

Compare  with  him  surely  I  can ; 
Nor  vainly  my  self  should  express, 

To  say,  I  am  much  more  a  Man ; 
To  th'  Government  firm  too  as  he, 

The  former  I  cunningly  mean  ; 
And  if  he  Religious  can  be, 

I've  as  much  sure  as  Mounsieur  Le  Chien. 

But  what  need  I  publish  my  Parts, 

Or  Idly  my  Passion  relate  ; 
Since  Fancy  that  Captivates  Hearts, 

Resolves  not  to  alter  my  Fate  : 
I  may  Sing,  Caper,  Ogle,  and  Speak, 

And  make  a  long  Court,  Ausi  bien, 
And  yet  with  one  Passionate  Lick, 

I'm  out-Rivall'd  by  Mounsieur  Le  Chien. 


A 


282  SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  283 

+^.fA+ •»  --> — J — 1 v 1— 1 |-r- 

DEAR  Pinckaninny,  if  half  a  Guinny, 
To  Love  will  win  ye, 
I  lay  it  here  down  ; 
We  must  be  Thrifty, 
'Twill  serve  to  shift  ye, 
And  I  know  Fifty, 

Will  do't  for  a  Crown. 

Dunns  come  so  boldly, 
King's  Money  so  slowly, 
That  by  all  things  Holy, 

'Tis  all  I  can  say ; 
Yet  I'm  so  rapt  in, 
The  Snare  that  I'm  trapt  in, 
As  I'm  a  true  Captain, 

Give  more  than  my  Pay. 

Good  Captain  Thunder, 
Go  mind  your  Plunder, 
Ods ns  I  wonder, 

You  dare  be  so  bold ; 
Thus  to  be  making, 
A  Treaty  so  sneaking, 
Or  Dream  too  of  taking, 

My  Fort  with  small  Gold. 

Other  Town  Misses, 
May  gape  at  Ten  Pieces, 
But  who  me  possesses, 

Full  Twenty  shall  Pay ; 
To  all  poor  Rogues  in  Buff, 
Thus,  thus  I  strut  and  huff, 
So  Captain  kick  and  cuff, 

March  on  your  way. 


284 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  two  Part  SONG  :  Being  part  of  an  ODE, 
Made  to  Entertain  the  Nobility  and 
Gentry  of  the  County  of  York.  Set  by 
Mr.  Henry  Purcell. 


tt= 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


285 


A   ND  in  each  track  of  Glory,  since, 
J-\^  And  in  each  track  of  Glory,  since  j 
For  their  lov'd  Country,  or  their  Prince. 
Princes  that  hate,  that  hate  Rome's  Tyranny, 
And  joyn  the  Nations  right,  with  their  own  Royalty  : 
None  were  more  ready,  none  were  more  ready, 
None,  none,  none,  none,  none  were  more  ready 

In  Distress  to  Save  ; 
No  none  were  more  Loyal,  none,  ||  :  :  || :  :  || : :  || :  :  || :  :  || 

None  were  more  Loyal,  none,  none  more  Brave. 


286 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  Prophetick  SONNET,  On  the  Ensuing 
Campaign  :  Made  to  encourage  the  Officers 
and  Soldiers.  To  a  pretty  Trumpet- 
Tune. 


-f---f-S 


t=JK 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five. 


N"  O  W,  now  Winter  is  retreating, 
Hark,  hark  the  Martial  Drum  is  beating; 
Fate  smiles  upon  the  Glorious  Year, 
Predestin'd  for  Proud  France  to  fear  : 
Flanders  shall  shake  with  Marlborougtis  Thunders, 
Spain  too  where  Staremberg  did  Wonders, 
Spight  of  some  late  unlucky  blunders  ; 
And  the  taking  of  Girrone  March, 
March,  begin  the  Seige  of  Arras, 
Then,  then  lead  on  your  way  to  Paris ; 
Moimsieur  you'll  confound, 
And  Philip  must  in  course  go  down. 

Cease,  cease  Brittish  Men  your  jangling, 
Great  harms  befall  us  by  your  wrangling  ; 
Rank  feuds  encourage  still  the  Foe, 
You  else  might  quickly  overthrow : 
Joyn  all,  let  Royal  Anna  charm  ye, 
Use  means  to  pay  the  Fleet  and  Army  ; 
No  pow'r  of  bragging  France  will  harm  yer 

Tho'  Te  Deums  never  cease  ; 
Tho'  tho'  with  Boyish  crowds  they  threaten, 
All  know  their  Marshalls  can  be  beaten ; 

Conquests  will  increase, 

And  soon  we  shall  command  a  Peace. 

Second  Movement. 


288 


SONGS  Compleat, 


But  if  we  squable  and  brawl, 
And  daily  to  difference  fall  \ 

If  Jarr  in  our  Votes, 
As  Ranters,  and  Canters, 
And  Thy  Church,  and  my  Church, 

We're  ready  for  Cutting  of  Throats  ; 
Then  as  plainly  will  be  seen, 

Our  losses  begins  with  shame, 
And  teaze  the  Gracious  Queen  : 
Ah,  how  will  France  delight  in't, 
Who'll  go  to  Spain,  to  Fight  in't, 

Lifters  and  Shifters, 

Press  Masters  may  follow  and  seize  in  vain, 
No  good  luck  follows  Waring, 
Where  the  Natives  are  Jarring  ;  (again. 

Then  happily  let  us  agree,  and  have  at  the  Mounsieur 

A 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 
A  SONG. 


289 


Qckey  was  a  dawdy  Lad, 

And  Jemmy  swarth  and  Tawney 
They  my  Heart  no  Captive  made,    • 

For  that  was  Prize  to  Sawney : 
Jockey  Woes,  and  Sighs  and  Sues, 

And  Jemmy  offers  Money  j 
Weel  I  see  they  both  love  me, 
But  I  love  only  Sawney. 


Jockey  high  his  Voice  can  raise, 

And  Jemmy  tunes  the  Viol ; 
But  when  Sawney  Pipes  sweet  Lays, 

My  heart  kens  no  denial : 
One  he  Sings,  and  to'ther  Strings, 

Tho'  sweet,  yet  only  teaze  me  5 
Sawney's  Flute,  can  only  do't, 

And  Pipe  a  Tune  to  please  me. 
VOL.  i.  u 


290 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  Catch  for  Three  Voices,  Set  by  Mr.  Hen. 
Purcell.     Translated  from  the  Latin  of 
Buchanan. 


-FP 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive. 


291 


5 1|_ _ 1 .-lISIIpL-l 


YOung  CW//X  cleaving  of  a  Beam, 
At  ev'ry  Thumping,  thumping  blow  cry'd  hem  ; 
And  told  his  Wife,  and  told  his  Wife, 
And  told  his  Wife  who  the  Cause  would  know, 
That  Hem  made  the  Wedge  much  further  go  : 
Plump  Joan*  when  at  Night  to  Bed  they  came, 
And  both  were  Playing  at  that  same ; 
Cry'd    Hem,    hem,  hem    prithee,     prithee,    prithee 

Cottin  do, 

If  ever  thou  lov'dst  me,  Dear  hem  now ; 
He  laughing  answer'd  no,  no,  no, 
Some  Work  will  Split,  will  split  with  half  a  blow ; 
Besides  now  I  Bore,  now  I  bore,  now  I  bore, 
Now,  now,  now  I  bore, 
I  Hem  when  I  Cleave,  but  now  I  Bore. 


J  2 


292  SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG.  • 


He. 


ffiE 


CHORUS. 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


293 


John.     S~*  Ome  Jug,  my  Honey,  let's  to  bed, 
V^,  It  is  no  Sin,  sin  we  are  wed ; 

For  when  I  am  near  thee  by  desire, 
I  burn  like  any  Coal  of  Fire. 

Jng.      To  quench  thy  Flames  I'll  soon  agree, 
Thou  art  the  Sun,  and  I  the  Sea ; 
All  Night  within  my  Anns  shalt  be, 
And  rise  each  Morn  as  fresh  as  he. 

CHO.     Come  on  then,  and  couple  together, 
Come  all,  the  Old  and  the  Young, 
The  Short  and  the  Tall; 
The  richer  than  Crcesus, 
And  poorer  than  Job, 
For  'tis  Wedding  and  Bedding, 
That  Peoples  the  Globe. 

John.     My  Heart  and  all's  at  thy  command, 
And  tho'  I've  never  a  Foot  of  Land, 
Yet  six  fat  Ewes,  and  one  milch  Cow, 
I  think,  my  Jug,  is  Wealth  enow. 

Jug.      A  Wheel,  six  Platters  and  a  Spoon, 
A  Jacket  edg'd  with  blue  Galloon ; 
My  Coat,  my  Smock  is  thine,  and  shall 
And  something  under  best  of  all. 

CHO.     Come  on  then,  &c. 


294  SONGS  Compleat, 

A  Scotch  SONG. 


« 


n      _f    *~     s~  '—_  .  ?~>_    "->   :#:  ..  _   _T? 

-— \Z-—-£^- 4_  «  •  P   I        r  P    ^   _     _  up    9  r  :  - 

^t^-4-i — P^p^f  rT  "l-B~i  ""I^^P^^FH--  ^^==- 

uT)  J-^— *-h  LJ  -i-^ —  — g^^ 

tr-^r-t^    ^  '  ~^~ 


De'll 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  295 

eE'll  take  the  War,  that  hurry'd  Willy  from  me, 
Who  to  love  me,  just  had  sworn, 
made  him  Captain  sure  to  undoe  me, 
Woe  is  me,  he'll  ne'er  return ; 
A  thousand  Loons  abroad  will  Fight  him, 

He  from  thousands  ne'er  will  run  ; 
Day  and  Night  I  did  invite, 

To  stay  safe  from  the  Sword  and  Gun : 

I  us'd  alluring  Graces, 

With  muckle  kind  Embraces, 
Now  sighing,  then  Crying,  Tears  dropping  fall; 

And  had  he  my  soft  Arms, 

Preferr'd  to  Wars  alarms  : 
By  Love  grown  Mad,  without  the  Man  of  Gad, 
I  fear  in  my  fit,  I  had  grented  all 

I  Wash'd  and  Patch'd  to  make  me  look  provoking, 

Snares  that  they  told  me  wou'd  catch  the  Men ; 
And  on  my  Head  a  huge  Commode  sat  cocking, 

Which  made  me  shew  as  Tall  agen  : 
For  a  new  Gown  too,  I  paid  muckle  Money, 

Which  with  golden  Flowers  did  shine  ; 
My  Love  well  might  think  me  gay  and  Bonny, 

No  Scotch  Lass  was  e'er  so  Fine. 

My  Petticoat  I  Spotted, 

Fring  too  with  Thread  I  Knotted, 
Lace  Shoes,  and  Silk  Hose,  Garter  full  over  Knee ; 

But  oh  !  the  fatal  thought, 

To  Willy  these  are  nought, 
Who  rid  to  Towns,  and  Riffled  with  Dragoons, 
When  he  silly  Loon  might  have  Plunder'd  me. 


296  SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG. 


E 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


297 


HOW  vile  are  the  Sordid  Intrigues  of  the  Town, 
Cheating  and  Lying  continually  sway  ; 
From  Bully  and  Punk,  to  the  Politick  Gown, 

In  Plotting  and  Sotting,  they  waste  the  Day  : 
All  their  Discourse  is  of  Foreign  Affairs, 
The  French  and  the  Wars  is  always  the  cry ; 
Marriage  alas  is  declining, 
Nay,  tho'  a  poor  Virgin  lies  pining, 
Ah  Curse  of  this  Jarring,  what  luck  have  I. 

I  hop'd  a  rich  Trader  by  Ogling  Charms, 

Into  my  Conjugal  Fetters  to  bring ; 
I  planted  my  snare  too,  for  one  lov'd  Arms, 

But  found  his  design  was  another  thing  : 
From  the  Court  Province,  down  to  the  dull  Cites, 
Both  Cully  and  Wits  of  Marriage  are  shy ; 
Marriage  alas  is  declining, 
Nay,  tho  a  poor  Virgin  lies  pining, 
Ah  pox  of  the  Mounsieur,  what  luck  have  I. 


Hampton 


298 


SONGS  Compleat, 


Hampton  Court,  a  new  Song.      To  a  pretty 
new  Tune,  made  by  a  Person  of  Quality. 


Ft* 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


299 


WHere  divine  Gloriana,  her  Palace  late  rear'd, 
And  the  choicest  delights,  Art  and  Nature 
prepared, 

On  the  bank  of  sweet  Thames,  gently  gliding  along ; 
The  Love-sick  Philander  sate  down  and  thus  Sang : 
More  happy  than  yet  any  place  was  before, 
Thou  dear  blest  resemblance  of  her  I  adore ; 
All  Eyes  are  delighted  with  prospect  of  thee, 
Thou  charm'st  ev'ry  Sense,  thou  charm'st  ev'ry  Sense, 
Ah  !  just  so  does  she. 

As  the  River's  clear  Waves  Zephyr  softly  does  rowl, 
So  her  breath  moves  the  Passions,  that  flow  in  my  Soul ; 
As  the  Trees  by  the  Sun,  feel  a  nourishing  joy  ; 
So  my  Heart  is  refresh'd  by  a  glance  from  her  Eye : 
The  Birds  pretty  Notes,  we  still  hear  when  she  speaks ; 
And  the  sweetest  of  Gardens,  still  blooms  in  her  Cheeks; 
Had  I  that  dear  bliss,  for  no  other  I'd  sue ; 
Who  enjoys  this  sweet  Eve,  who  enjoys  this  sweet  Eve, 
Has  all  Paradise  too. 

A 


300 


SONGS  Comp lea^ 


A  SONG  on  the  Victory  over  the  Turks. 


m  .        *   -fc^-  -r    m- 


t-t-t-0- m-L-\-»-f-—         -   m    j— H-E-^-y- 


\tt)         '  *•*— + — f   kJ     M— P 


H" 

And  the  i< 


Ark  the  thundring  Cannons  roar, 

Ecchoing  from  the  German  shore, 
And  the  joyful  News  comes  o'er ; 
The  Turks  are  all  confounded  ? 
Lorrain  comes,  they  run,  they  run, 
Charge  your  Horse  thro'  the  grand  half  Moon, 
We'll  Quarter  give  to  none, 
Since  Staremberg  is  wounded. 

Close  your  rank,  and  each  brave  soul 
Take  a  lusty  flowing  bowl, 
A  grand  carouse  to  the  Royal  Pole^ 
The  Empires  brave  defender ; 


No 


Pleasant  and  Diver  tive.  301 

No  Man  leave  his  post  by  stealth, 
Plunder  the  Grand  Visier^  wealth, 
But  drink  a  Helmet  full  to  th'  Health, 
Of  the  second  Alexander. 

Mahomet  was  a  sober  dog, 

A  Small-beer,  drowzy,  senseless  Rogue, 

The  juice  of  the  Grape  so  much  in  vogue, 

To  forbid  to  those  adore  him ; 
Had  he  but  allow'd  the  Vine, 
Given  'em  leave  to  carouse  in  Wine, 
The  Turk  had  safely  past  the  Rhine> 

And  conquer'd  all  before  him. 

With  dull  Tea  they  fought  in  vain, 

Hopeless  Vict'ry  to  obtain, 

Where  sprightly  Wine  fills  ev'ry  Vein ; 

Success  must  needs  attend  him  ; 
Our  Brains  (like  our  Cannons)  warm, 
With  often  firing  feels  no  harm, 
While  the  Sober  sot  flies  the  alarm, 

No  Laurel  can  befriend  him. 

Christians  thus  with  conquest  crown'd  : 
Conquest  with  the  Glass  goes  round, 
Weak  Coffee  can't  keep  its  ground, 

Against  the  force  of  Claret : 
Whilst  we  give  them  thus  the  Foil, 
And  the  Pagan  Troops  recoyl, 
The  Valiant  Poles  divide  the  spoil, 

And  in  brisk  Nectar  share  it. 

Infidels  are  now  o'ercome, 

But  the  most  Christian  Turk's  at  home, 

Watching  the  fate  of  Christendom, 

But  all  his  hopes  are  shallow  ; 
Since  the  Poles  have  led  the  Dance, 
Let  English  Ccesar  now  advance, 
And  if  he  sends  a  Fleet  to  France, 

He's  a  Wig  that  will  npt  follow. 

An 


302 


SONGS  Compleat, 


An  ODE  to  Cynthia  walking  on  Richmond- 
Hill.     Set  by  Mr.  Henry  Purcell. 


« 


Pleasant  and  Diver tive.  303 


ON  the  Brow  of  Richmond  Hill, 
Which  Europe  scarce  can  parallel, 
Ev'ry  Eye  such  Wonders  fill, 

To  view  the  Prospect  round  ; 
By  whose  fair  Fruitful  side, 
The  Silver  Thames  does  softly  glide, 
Meadows  dress'd  in  Summers  Pride, 

With  verdant  Beauties  crown'd  : 
Lovely  Cynthia  passing  by, 
With  brighter  Glories  blest  my  Eye, 
Ah  !  then  in  vain,  in  vain  said  I, 

The  Fields  and  Flowers  do  shine : 
Nature  in  this  Charming  Place, 
Created  Pleasure  in  Excess, 
But  all  are  Poor  to  Cynthia^  Face, 

Whose  Features  are  Divine. 


See 


304  SONGS  Compleat, 

See  the  Beautious  River  run, 
See  every  Billow  Rowling  on, 
Trees  and  flowers  Court  the  Sun, 

In  yonder  shady  Wood, 
But  when  Cynthia  does  appear, 
To  bless  my  Eyes  with  all  that's  fair, 
Ah  !  what  Beauty  can  compare 

To  Charming  Flesh  and  Blood  ; 
Nature  all  her  Rural  Joys, 
At  large  exposes  to  our  Eyes, 
But  Hills  and  Valleys,  Air  and  Skyes 

Henceforth  let  fools  admire  ; 
Cynthia  that  my  Life  may  be, 
Crown'd  with  true  felicity, 
Let  my  Prospect  still  be  thee 

No  other  I'll  desire. 


A  Scotch  SONG. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  305 


LAds  and  Lasses  Blith  and  Gay, 
^     Hear  what  my  Song  discloses, 
As  I  one  Morning  sleeping  lay, 

Upon  a  bank  of  Roses  : 
Willy  ganging  out  his  Gate, 

By  geud  luck  chanc'd  to  spy  me ; 
And  pulling  Bonnet  from  his  Pate, 
He  softly  lay  down  by  me. 

Willy  tho'  I  muckle  priz'd, 

Yet  now  I  wou'd  not  know  him  ; 
But  made  a  Frown  my  Face  disguis'd, 

And  from  me  strove  to  throw  him : 
Fondly  he  still  nearer  prest, 

Upon  my  Bosom  lying  ; 
His  beating  Heart  too  thump'd  so  fast, 

I  thought  the  Loon  was  dying. 

But  resolving  to  deny, 

An  angry  Passion  feigning  ; 
I  often  roughly  push'd  him  by, 

With  words  full  of  disdaining  : 
Willy  baulk'd  no  favour  wins, 

Went  off  so  discontented ; 
But  I  geud  faith  for  all  my  Sins, 

Ne'er  half  so  much  Repented. 


VOL.  I. 


306 


SONGS  Compleat, 
A  Scotch  SONG. 


IN  January  last,  on  Munnonday  at  Morn, 
As  I  along  the   Fields  did  pass   to  view  the 

Winter's  Corn ; 

I  leaked  me  behind,  and  I  saw  come  over  the  Knough, 
Yan  glenting  in  an  Apron  with  bonny  brent  Brow. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  307 

I  bid  gud  morrow  fair  Maid,  and  she  right  courteouslie, 
Bekt  lew  and  fine,  kind  Sir,  she  said,  gud  day  agen  to 

ye; 

I  spear'd  o  her,  fair  Maid  quo  I,  how  far  intend  ye  now  ? 
Quo  she,  I  mean  a  Mile  or  twa,  to  yonder  bonny  brow. 

Fair  Maid,  I'm  weel  contented  to  have  sike  Company, 
For  I  am  ganging  out  the  Gate  that  ya  intend  ta  be ; 
When  we  had  walk'd  a  Mile  or  twa,  Ize  said  to  her, 

my  Doe, 
May  I  not  dight  your  Apron  fine,  kiss  your  bonny  brow. 

Nea,  gud  Sir,  you  are  far  misteen,  for  I  am  nean  o'those, 
I  hope  ya  ha  more  Breeding  then  to  dight  a  Womans 

Cloaths ; 

For  I've  a  better  chosen  than  any  sike  as  you, 
Who  boldly  may  my  Apron  dight  and  kiss  ma  bonny 

brow. 

Na,  if  ya  are  contracted,  I  have  ne  mar  to  say, 
Rather  than  be  rejected,  I  will  give  o'er  the  play  ; 
And  I  will  chose  yen  o  me  own  that  shall  not  on  me 

rew, 
Will  boldly  let  me  dight  her  Apron,  kiss  her  bonny 

brow. 

Sir,  Ize  see  ya  are  proud-hearted,  and  leath  to  be  said 

nay, 

You  need  not  tall  ha  started,  for  eight  that  Ize  ded  say ; 
You  know  Wemun  for  Modestie,  ne  at  the  first  time  boo, 
But,  gif  we  like  your  Company,  we  are  as  kind  as  you. 


<# 

x  2  The 


3o8 


SONGS  Compleat, 


The  Nurses  SONG. 


VT  — ^  MI 


M 


MY  dear  Cock  adoodle, 
My  Jewel,  my  Joy ; 
My  Darling,  my  Honey, 
My  Pretty  sweet  Boy  : 
Before  I  do  Rock  thee, 
With  soft  Lul-la-by ; 
Give  me  thy  sweet  Lips, 

To  be  Kiss,  kiss,  kiss,  kiss,  kiss,  kiss. 

Thy  Charming  high  Fore-head, 

Thy  Eyes  too  like  Sloes ; 
Thy  fine  Dimple  Chin, 

And  thy  right  Roman  Nose  : 


With 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  309 

With  some  pretty  marks, 

That  lie  under  thy  Cloaths ; 
Sure  thou'lt  be  a  rare  one, 

To  Kiss,  kiss,  &c. 

To  make  thee  grow  quickly, 

I'll  do  what  I  can  : 
I'll  Feed  thee,  I'll  Stroak  thee, 

I'll  make  thee  a  Man  : 
Ah  !  then  how  the  Lasses, 

Moll,  Betty  and  Nan; 
By  thee  will  run  Mad, 

To  be  Kiss,  kiss,  &c. 

And  when  in  due  Season, 

My  Billy  shall  Wed  ; 
And  Lead  a  young  Lady, 

From  Church  to  the  Bed  : 
A  Welfare  the  loosing, 

Of  her  Maiden-Head ; 
If  Billy  come  near  her, 

To  Kiss,  kiss,  &c. 

Then  Welfare  high  Fore-head, 

And  Eyes  black  as  Sloes  ; 
And  Welfare  the  Dimple, 

And  Welfare  the  Nose  : 
And  all  pretty  Marks, 

That  lie  under  the  Cloaths  ; 
For  none  is  more  hopeful, 

To  Kiss,  kiss,  &c. 


3io 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  New  SONG. 
Set  by  Mr.  J.  Clarke. 


=fc±= 


LJ/.   P       ..  _ g-|T 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live,  3 1 1 


T  T  Ark  the  Cock  crow'd,  'tis  Day  all  abroad, 

~][      And  looks  like  a  jolly  fair  morning ; 
Up  Roger  and  James,  and  drive  out  your  Teams, 

Up  quickly  to  carry  the  Corn  in  : 
Davy  the  drowzy  and  Barnaby  bowzy, 

At  Breakfast  we'll  flout  and  we'll  jear  boys  ; 
Sluggards  shall  chatter  with  Small-beer  and  Water, 

Whilst  you  shall  tope  off  the  March  beer,  Boys. 

Lasses  that  Snore  for  shame  give  it  o'er, 

Mouth  open  the  Flies  will  be  blowing  ; 
To  get  us  stout  Hum  when  Christmas  is  come, 

Away  where  the  Early  is  Mowing  : 
In  your  Smock  sleeves  too,  go  bind  up  the  Sheaves 
too, 

With  nimble  young  Rowland  and  Harry ; 
Then  when  work's  over,  at  Night  give  each  Lover, 

A  Hugg  and  a  Buss  in  the  Dairy. 

Two  for  the  Mow,  and  two  for  the  Plow, 

Is  then  the  next  labour  comes  after  ; 
I'm  sure  I  hired  four,  but  if  you  want  more, 

I'll  send  you  my  Wife  and  my  Daughter  : 
Roger  the  trusty,  tell  Rachel  the  lusty, 

The  Barn's  a  brave  place  to  steal  Garters  ; 
'Twixt  her  and  you  then,  contrive  up  the  Mow  then, 

And  take  it  at  Night  for  your  Quarters. 


312 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG. 


m  i 


— .  of J 1 1 1 


i 


Rise 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  3 1 3 

RISE  Bonny  Kate,  the  Sun's  got  up  high, 
The  Fidlers  have  play'd  their  last  merry  Tune ; 
Let's  give  'em  a  George  and  bid  'em  god  b'w'y, 
And  gang  to  the  Wells  before  'tis  noon. 

There  to  thy  Health  ize  drink  my  three  quarts, 
Then  raffle  among  the  Beauties  divine  ; 

Where  tho'  some  young  Fops  may  chance  to  lose  hearts, 
Assure  thy  self  Jockey's  shall  still  be  thine. 

When  we  come  home  we'll  kiss  and  we'll  bill, 
And  Feast  on  each  other  as  well  as  our  meat ; 

Then  saddle  our  Nags  and  away  to  Box-hill, 
And  there,  there,  there,  consummate  the  Treat. 

And  when  at  Bowls  I  chance  to  be  broke, 
Smile  thou,  and  for  losses  I  care  not  a  pin ; 

I'll  push  on  my  Fortune  at  Night  at  the  Oak, 
And  quickly,  quickly,  quickly,  recov'r  all  agen. 

For  thy  diversion  coud'st  thou  but  think, 
WThy  here  all  degrees  cold  Bumpers  take  off; 

Or  why  all  this  croud  come  hither  to  drink, 

In  spight  of  the  Spleen  twou'd  make  thee  laugh. 

Courtiers  and  Plough-men,  States-men  and  Citts, 
The  Men  of  the  Sword,  and  Men  of  the  Laws  ; 

The  Virgin,  the  Punck,  the  Fools,  and  the  Wits, 
All  tope  off  their  Cups  for  a  different  Cause. 

New  Marry'd  Brides  their  Spouses  to  please, 

Each  Morning  quaff  largely  in  hopes  to  conceive ; 

The  Bully  too  drinks  to  wash  off  his  Disease, 
Still  fearing  the  Fall  of  the  Leaf. 

Old  musty  Wives  take  Nine  in  a  hand, 

The  Maiden  takes  five  too,  that's  vex'd  with  her 

Greens ; 
In  hopes  they'll  have  pow'r  to  prepare  her  for  Man, 

When  ever  she  comes  to  her  Teens. 


3  14 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG. 


•-— |— F— ^ — p 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


3*5 


|-^u         =1— -« — :[^i 


ROyal  and  fair,  great  Willy's  dear  Blessing, 
The  Charming  Regent  of  the  Swains  j 
Heavy  with  Care,  thus  sadly  expressing 
Her  Grief,  sat  weeping  on  the  Plains  : 
Why  did  my  Fate  exalt  me  so  high, 
If  fading  State  must  deprive  me  of  Joy  ; 
Since  Willy  is  gone, 
Ah  !  How  vainly  shines  the  Sun, 
'Till  Fates  decree,  the  Winds  and  Sea, 
Waft,  waft  him  to  me. 

Large  are  my  Flocks,  and  flowry  my  Pastures, 

Worth  Treasures  vast  of  Silver  and  Gold ; 
Where  ravenous  Wolves  too  fain  would  be  Masters, 
Devour  all  my  Lambs,  and  break  down  my  Fold : 
Willy,  while  here,  secur'd  me  from  fear, 
All  the  Wild  Herd  stood  in  awe  of  my  Dear  ; 

But  poor  helpless  I, 

Mourning  Sigh  and  hourly  Cry, 

Let  Fates  decree,  the  Winds  and  Sea, 

Waft  Willy  to  me. 


316 


SONGS  Compleat> 


A  SONG. 


•— r 


Sawney 


Pleasant  and  Divertive.  3 1 7 

SAwney  was  tall  and  of  Noble  Race, 
And  lov'd  me  better  than  any  eane  j 
But  now  he  ligs  by  another  Lass, 

And  Sawney  will  ne'er  be  my  love  agen  : 
I  gave  him  fine  Scotch  Sarke  and  Band, 
I  put  'em  on  with  mine  own  hand  ; 
I  gave  him  House,  and  I  gave  him  Land, 
Yet  Sawney  will  ne'er  be  my  Love  agen. 

I  robb'd  the  Groves  of  all  their  store, 

And  Nosegays  made  to  give  Sawney  one ; 
He  kiss'd  my  Breast  and  feign  would  do  mere, 
Geud  feth  me  thought  he  was  a  bonny  one : 
He  squeez'd  my  fingers,  grasp'd  my  knee, 
And  carv'd  my  Name  on  each  green  Tree, 
And  sigh'd  and  languish'd  to  lig  by  me, 
Yet  now  he  wo'not  be  my  Love  agen. 

My  Bongrace  and  my  Sun-burnt-face, 

He  prais'd,  and  also  my  Russet  Gown ; 
But  now  he  doats  on  the  Copper  Lace, 

Of  some  leud  Quean  of  London  Town  : 
He  gangs  and  gives  her  Curds  and  Cream, 
Whilst  I  poor  Soul  sit  sighing  at  heam, 
And  near  joy  Sawney  unless  in  a  Dream, 
For  now  he  ne'er  will  be  my  Love  again. 


3 1 8  SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG. 


-0—* 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  319 


"TT^Was  when  the  Sheep  were  Shearing, 

And  under  the  Barly  Mow ; 
Dick  gave  to  Doll  a  Fairing, 

As  she  had  milk'd  her  Cow : 
Quoth  he,  I  fain  wou'd  Wed  thee, 

And  tho'  I  cannot  Wooe  ; 
I've  Hey  Pish,  Hey  Cock,  Hey,  and  hey  for  a  Boy ; 

Sing,  shall  I  come  Kiss  thee  now, 
Sing,  ah  !  shall  I  come,  shall  I  come  Kiss  thee  now  ? 

I  long  Sweet-heart  to  Bed  thee, 
And  merrily  Buckle  too, 
With  Hey  Pish,  Hey  Cock,  Hey,  and  hey  for  a  Boy  ; 

Sing,  shall  I  come  Kiss  thee  now, 
Sing  ah !  shall  I  come,  shall  I  come  Kiss  thee  now  ? 

Doll  seem'd  not  to  regard  him, 

As  if  she  did  not  care  ; 
Yet  Simper'd  when  she  heard  him, 

Like  any  Miller's  Mare  : 
And  cunningly  to  prove  him, 

And  Value  her  Maiden-head, 
Cry'd  fie,  nay  Pish,  nay  fie,  and  prithee  stand  by, 

For  I  am  too  young  to  Wed ; 
She  said,  she  ne'er  cou'd  Love  him, 

Nor  any  Man  close  in  Bed  ; 
Then  fie  Pish,  fie,  nay  Pish,  nay  prithee  stand  by, 

For  I  am  too  young  to  Wed. 

Like  one  that's  struck  with  Thunder, 

Stood  Dickey  to  hear  her  talk , 
All  hopes  to  get  her  under, 

This  sad  resolve  did  baulk  : 

At 


320 


SONGS  Compleat, 


At  last  he  swore,  grown  bolder, 

He'd  hire  some  common  Shrew ; 
For  hey  pish,  hey  fie,  hey  for  a  Boy, 

Sing,  shall  I  come  Kiss  thee  now  ? 
In  Loving  Arms  did  fold  her, 

E'er  Sneak,  and  Cringe,  and  Cry ; 
With  hey  pish,  hey  fie,  hey  for  a  Boy, 

Sing,  shall  I  come  Kiss  thee  now. 

Convinc'd  of  her  Coy  folly, 

And  stubborn  Female  will ; 
Poor  Doll  grew  Melancholy, 

The  Grist  went  by  her  Mill : 
I  hope,  she  cry'd,  you're  wiser, 

Then  credit  what  I  have  said ; 
Tho'  I  do  cry  nay  fie,  and  pish,  and  prithee  stand  by, 

That  I  am  too  young  to  Wed ; 
Bring  you  the  Church  adviser, 

And  dress  up  the  Bridal  Bed  ; 
Then  try,  tho'  I  cry,  fie  and  pish,  and  prithee  stand  by, 

If  I  am  too  young  to  Wed. 


A  SONG. 


The 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  321 

THE  Sun  had  loos'd  his  weary  Team, 
And  turn'd  his  Steeds  a  grazing  \ 
Ten  Fathoms  deep  in  Neptimes  Stream, 

His  Thetis  was  embracing  : 
The  Stars  they  tripp'd  in  the  Firmament, 

Like  Milkmaids  on  a  May -day ; 

Or  Country  Lasses  a  Mumming  sent, 

Or  School  Boys  on  a  Play-day. 

Apace  came  on  the  grey-ey'd  Morn, 

The  Herds  in  Fields  were  lowing ; 
And  'mongst  the  Poultry  in  the  Barn, 

The  Ploughman's  Cock  sate  crowing : 
When  Roger  dreaming  of  Golden  Joys, 

Was  wak'd  by  a  bawling  Rout,  Sir ; 
For  Cisly  told  him,  he  needs  must  rise, 

His  Juggy  was  crying  out,  Sir. 

Not  half  so  quickly  the  Cups  go  round, 

At  the  tapping  a  good  Ale  Firkin ; 
As  Roger,  Hosen  and  Shoon  had  found, 

And  Button'd  his  Leather  Jerkin  : 
Gray  Mare  was  saddl'd  with  wondrous  speed, 

With  Pillion  on  Buttock  right  Sir ; 
And  thus  he  to  an  old  Midwife  ride, 

To  bring  the  poor  Kid  to  light,  Sir. 

Up,  up  dear  Mother,  then  Roger  crys, 

The  Fruit  of  my  Labour's  now  come  ; 
In  Juggy's  Belly  it  sprawling  lies, 

And  cannot  get  out  till  you  come  : 
I'll  help  it,  crys  the  old  Hag,  ne'er  doubt, 

Thy  yug  shall  be  well  again,  Boy ; 
I'll  get  the  Urchin  as  safely  out, 

As  ever  it  did  get  in,  Boy. 

The  Mare  now  bustles  with  all  her  feet, 
No  whipping  or  Spurs  were  wanting ; 

At  last  into  the  good  House  they  get, 
And  Mew,  soon  cry'd  the  bantling  : 

VOL.  I.  Y  A 


322  SONGS  Compleat, 

A  Female  Chit  so  small  was  born, 

They  put  it  into  a  Flagon  ; 
And  must  be  Christen'd  that  very  Morn, 

For  fear  it  should  die  a  Pagan. 

Now  Roger  struts  about  the  Hall, 

As  great  as  the  Prince  of  Conde  : 
The  Midwife  crys,  her  Parts  are  small, 

But  they  will  grow  larger  one  day  : 
What  tho'  her  Thighs  and  Legs  lie  close, 

And  little  as  any  Spider ; 
They  will  when  up  to  her  teens  she  grows, 

By  grace  of  the  Lord  lie  wider. 

And  now  the  merry  Spic'd-bowls  went  round, 

The  Gossips  were  void  of  shame  too ; 
In  butter'd  Ale  the  Priest  half  drown'd, 

Demands  the  Infant's  Name  too ; 
Some  call'd  it  Phill,  some  Florida, 

But  Kate  was  allow'd  the  best  hin't ; 
For  she  would  have  it  Cunicula, 

Cause  there  was  a  pretty  Jest  in't. 

Thus  Cunny  of  Winchester  was  known 

And  famous  in  Kent  and  Dover; 
And  highly  rated  in  London  Town, 

And  courted  the  Kingdom  over : 
The  Charms  of  Cunny  by  Sea  and  Land, 

Subdues  each  human  Creature  ; 
And  will  our  stubborn  Hearts  command, 

Whilst  there  is  a  Man  in  Nature. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live. 


A  SONG 


i__/2_ft_,_p •    -f-  p    -&-    »    'fL-     .  G 


JOy  to  the  Bridegroom !  fill  the  Sky 
With  pleasing  sounds  of  welcome  Joy 
Joy  to  the  Bride,  may  lasting  Bliss, 
And  every  Day  still  prove  like  this. 
Joy  to  the,  6°£ 

Never  were  Marriage  Joys  Divine, 
But  where  two  constant  Hearts  Combine ; 
He  that  proves  false,  himself  doth  cheat, 
Like  sick  Men  tasts,  but  cannot  eat. 
He  that,  6^. 

What  is  a  Maiden-head  ?  ah  what  ? 
Of  which  weak  Fools  so  often  prate? 
'Tis  the  young  Virgin's  Pride  and  Boast, 
Yet  never  was  found  but  when  'twas  lost. 
'Tis  the,  &c. 

Fill  me  a  Glass  then  to  the  brink, 
And  its  Confusion  here  I'll  drink ; 
And  he  that  baulks  the  Health  I  nam'd, 

May  he  die  young,  and  then  be  D 

And  he  that,  6°^. 

Y  2 


324 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG. 


Night  her  blackest  Sable  wore, 

|        And  gloomy  were  the  Skies ; 
And  glitt'ring  Stars  there  were  no  more, 

Than  those  in  Stella's  Eyes  : 
When  at  her  Father's  Gate  I  knock'd, 

Where  I  had  often  been, 
And  Shrowded  only  with  her  Smock, 

The  fair  one  let  me  in. 


Fast 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  325 

Fast  lock'd  within  her  close  Embrace, 

She  trembling  lay  asham'd  ; 
Her  swelling  Breast,  and  glowing  Face, 

And  every  touch  inflam'd  : 
My  eager  Passion  I  obey'd, 

Resolv'd  the  Fort  to  win ; 
And  her  fond  Heart  was  soon  betray'd, 

To  yield  and  let  me  in. 

Then  !  then  !  beyond  expressing, 

Immortal  was  the  Joy ; 
I  knew  no  greater  blessing, 

So  great  a  God  was  I  : 
And  she  transported  with  delight, 

Oft  pray'd  me  come  again  ; 
And  kindly  vow'd  that  every  Night, 

She'd  rise  and  let  me  in. 

But,  oh  !  at  last  she  prov'd  with  Bern, 

And  sighing  sat  and  dull ; 
And  I  that  was  as  much  concern'd, 

Look'd  then  just  like  a  Fool : 
Her  lovely  Eyes  with  tears  run  o'er, 

Repenting  her  rash  Sin  ; 
She  sigh'd  and  curs'd  the  fatal  hour, 

That  e'er  She  let  me  in. 

But  who  could  cruelly  deceive, 

Or  from  such  Beauty  part  ; 
I  lov'd  her  so,  I  could  not  leave 

The  Charmer  of  my  Heart : 
But  Wedded  and  conceal'd  the  Crime, 

Thus  all  was  well  again ; 
And  now  she  thanks  the  blessed  Hour, 

That  e'er  she  let  me  in. 


326 


SONGS  Compleat, 


A  Scotch  SONG. 


'Twas 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  327 

"HT^Was  within  a  Furlong  of  Edinborough  Town, 
J^      In  the  Rosie  time  of  year  when  the  Grass  was 
down ; 

Bonny  jockey  Blith  and  Gay, 

Said  to  Jenny  making  Hay, 
Let's  sit  a  little  (Dear)  and  prattle, 

Tis  a  sultry  Day  : 

He  long  had  Courted  the  Black-Brow'd  Maid, 
But  Jockey  was  a  Wag  and  would  ne'er  consent  to  Wed ; 
Which  made  her  pish  and  phoo,  and  cry  out  it  will  not  do, 
I  cannot,  cannot,  cannot,  wonnot,  monnot  Buckle  too. 

He  told  her  Marriage  was  grown  a  meer  Joke, 

And  that  no  one  Wedded  now,  but  the  Scoundrel  Folk ; 

Yet  my  dear,  thou  shouldest  prevail, 

But  I  know  not  what  I  ail, 
I  shall  dream  of  Clogs,  and  silly  Dogs, 

With  Bottles  at  their  Tail ; 

But  I'll  give  thee  Gloves,  and  a  Bongrace  to  wear, 
And  a  pretty  Filly-Foal,  to  ride  out  and  take  the  Air ; 
If  thou  ne'er  will  pish  nor  phoo,  and  cry  it  ne'er  shall  do, 
I  cannot,  cannot,  &c. 

That  you'll  give  me  Trinkets,  cry'd  she,  I  believe, 
But  ah  !  what  in  return  must  your  poor  Jenny  give, 

When  my  Maiden  Treasure's  gone, 

I  must  gang  to  London  Town, 
And  Roar,  and  Rant,  and  Patch  and  Paint, 

And  Kiss  for  half  a  Crown  : 
Each  Drunken  Bully  oblige  for  Pay, 
And  earn  an  hated  Living  in  an  odious  Fulsom  way ; 
No,  no,  it  ne'er  shall  do,  for  a  Wife  I'll  be  to  you, 
Or  I  cannot,  cannot,  &c. 


328  SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG. 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  329 

Hloe  found  Amyntas  lying, 

All  in  Tears  upon  the  Plain  : 
Sighing  to  himself  and  crying, 
Wretched  I  to  love  in  vain  ! 
Kiss  me,  kiss  me,  Dear,  before  my  Dying ; 
Kiss  me  once  and  ease  my  pain. 

Sighing  to  himself  and  crying, 

Wretched  I  to  love  in  vain  ; 
Ever  scorning  and  denying, 

To  reward  your  faithful  Swain  : 
Kiss  me,  Dear,  before  my  Dying, 

Kiss  me  once  and  ease  my  pain. 

Ever  scorning  and  denying, 

To  reward  your  faithful  Swain ; 
Chloe,  laughing  at  his  crying, 

Told  him  that  he  Lov'd  in  vain ; 
Kiss  me,  Dear,  before  my  Dying, 

Kiss  me  once  and  ease  my  pain. 

Chloe  laughing  at  his  crying, 

Told  him  that  he  lov'd  in  vain  ; 
But  repenting  and  Complying, 

When  He  Kiss'd,  She  Kiss'd  again: 
Kiss'd  him  up  before  his  Dying, 

Kiss'd  him  up,  and  eas'd  his  pain. 


330  SONGS  Compleat, 


Scotch  SONG,  or  a  Game  at 
Pam. 


=*^i5E    ' 

13i±: 


i&±=k 


Pleasant  and  Divertive. 


WHEN  Phillida  with  Jockey  play'd  at  Pam, 
The  bonny  Lad  nea  whit  cou'd  heed  his  Game 
But  sighing  in  his  doleful  dumps, 
Leuk'd  at  her  and  lost  his  Trumps, 
Ah  !  a  blither  sport  was  Jockey's  chief  Aim : 

Those  bright  Eyes, 

The  Loon  Heart  wounded  cries, 
Ah  welladay,  dear  Phillida^ 
Joy,  and  yet  destroy  me, 
I'se  ne'er  win  by  Mournival  or  blaze, 
Or  conquering  Knave  whilst  on  my  Queen  I  gaze. 

Thus  Phillida  with  Beauty,  Wit,  and  Art, 

His  Money  won,  who  had  before  his  Heart ; 
Until  the  laughing  God  of  Love, 
Pack'd  the  Cards  and  made  'em  prove, 

All  combin'd  to  take  poor  Jockey's  weak  part : 
No  kind  Knave, 
The  Charmer  now  cou'd  have, 

Her  Lover  too,  Recover'd  too, 

More  than  lost  before  too, 

Till  to  please  them  love  chang'd  the  wrangling  Game, 

To  Wedlock  Joys,  and  Jockey  was  her  Pam. 


33  2  SONGS  Compleat, 

\ 

A  SONG. 


j=rf 


To 


Pleasant  and  Diver  live.  333 

XO  Horse,  brave  boys  of  Newmarket,  to  Horse, 
You'll  lose  the  Match  by  longer  delaying  ; 
Gelding  just  now  was  led  over  the  Course, 
I  think  the  Devil's  in  you  for  staying  : 
Run,  and  endeavour  all  to  bubble  the  Sporters, 
Bets  may  recover  all  lost  at  the  Groom-Porters ; 
Follow,  follow,  follow,  follow,  come  down  to  the  Ditch, 
Take  the  odds  and  then  you'll  be  rich. 

For  I'll  have  the  brown  Bay,  if  the  blew  bonnet  ride, 
And  hold  a  thousand  Pounds  of  his  side,  Sir ; 

Dragon  would  scow'r  it,  but  Dragon  grows  old ; 

He  cannot  endure  it,  he   cannot,   he  wonnot  now 

run  it, 
As  lately  he  could : 

Age,  age,  does  hinder  the  Speed,  Sir. 

Now,  now,  now  they  come  on,  and  see, 

See  the  Horse  lead  the  way  still ; 
Three  lengths  before  at  the  turning  the  Lands, 

Five  hundred  Pounds  upon  the  brown  Bay  still  : 
Pox  on  the  Devil,  I  fear  we  have  lost, 

For  the  Dog,  the  Blue  Bonnet,  has  run  it, 

A  Plague  light  upon  it, 
The  wrong  side  the  Post ; 
Odszounds,  was  ever  such  Fortune. 


334  SONGS  Compleat, 


A  SONG. 


•  w — fi  s-y — 11-7.] — g  -i-i — —{ 1 — *-^- 1 — W- 

t___^_      ^£& '-       — 9 —         — ^f-1- 


qr=p£=^rp=p: 
£J=^=^t 


Pleasant  and  Diver  five.  335 


WHEN  first  Amyntas  su'd  for  a  Kiss, 
My  innocent  Heart  was  tender ; 

That  tho'  I  push'd  him  away  from  the  bliss, 

My  Eyes  declar'd  my  Heart  was  won ; 
I  fain  an  artful  Coyness  wou'd  use, 

Before  I  the  Fort  did  Surrender  : 
But  Love  wou'd  suffer  no  more  such  abuse, 

And  soon,  alas  !  my  cheat  was  known  : 
He'd  sit  all  day,  and  laugh  and  play, 
A  thousand  pretty  things  would  say ; 
My  hand  he'd  squeez,  and  press  my  knees, 
Till  farther  on  he  got  by  degrees. 

My  Heart,  just  like  a  Vessel  at  Sea, 
Wou'd  toss  when  Amyntas  was  near  me ; 
But  ah  !  so  cunning  a  Pilot  was  he, 

Thro'  Doubts  and  Fears  he'd  still  sail  on  : 
I  thought  in  him  no  danger  cou'd  be, 
Too  wisely  he  knows  how  to  steer  me ; 
And  soon,  alas !  was  brought  to  agree, 

To  tast  of  Joys  before  unknown  : 
Well  might  he  boast  his  Pain  not  lost, 
For  soon  he  found  the  Golden  Coast ; 
Enjoy'd  the  Oar,  and  'tach'd  the  shore, 
Where  never  Merchant  went  before. 


336  SONGS  Compleat, 

A  Mock  to  the  foregoing  SONG  :   When  first 
Amyntas  sudfor  a  Kiss,  &c. 

AMinta  one  Night  had  occasion  to  P ss, 
Joan  reach'd  her  the  Pot  that  stood  by  her ; 
I  in  the  next  Chamber  could  hear  it  to  hiss, 

The  Sluice  was  small,  but  Stream  was  strong  : 
My  Soul  was  melting,  thinking  of  bliss, 
And  raving  I  lay  with  desire  j 
But  nought  could  be  done, 

For  alas  she  P d  on, 

Nor  car'd  for  Pangs  I  suffer'd  long  : 
Joan  next  made  hast, 
In  the  self  same  Case  ; 

To  fix  the  Pot  close  to  her  own  A ; 

Then  Floods  did  come, 
One  might  have  sworn, 
And  puff  a  Whirl-wind  flew  from  her  B . 

Says  Joan,  by  these  strange  Blasts  that  do  rise, 

I  guess  that  the  Night  will  grow  windy  ; 
For  when  such  Showers  do  fall  from  the  Skies, 

To  clear  the  Air  the  North-wind  blows  ; 
Ye  nasty  Quean,  her  Lady  replies, 

That  Tempest  broke  out  from  behind  ye  \ 
And  though  it  was  decently  kept  from  my  Eyes, 
The  troubled  Air  offends  my  Nose  : 
Says  Joan  'ods -heart, 

You  have  P d  a  Quart, 

And  now  you  make  ado  for  a  F 1 , 

'Tis  still  your  mind, 
To  squeeze  behind, 
But  never  fell  Shower  from  me  without  wind. 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.         337 

Orations,  Poems,  Prologues,  and 
Epilogues,  on  several  Occasions, 


y4  Poetical  Oration, 

Written  in  Queen  ANN'S  Reign,  in  Honour 
of  the  Ladies  ',  intended  for  a  New  Comedy 
call'd,  a  Wife  worth  a  Kingdom  :  And 
Spoken  by  me  on  the  Publick  THEATRE  in 
DRURY  LANE,  June  the  *]th,  1714. 

T  N  this  wise  Town  two  Games  precedence  get, 
X    The  Game  of  Politicks,  the  Game  of  Wit  ; 
The  first,  the  Heads  profound,  with  Art  pursue,    \ 
But  since  with  State  Affairs,  I've  nought  to  do,      V 
I  leave  that  Winning  for  the  Lord  knows  who  :      j 
The  Game  of  Wit  suits  more  my  own  Affair, 
Time  was  an  Author  in  an  Elbow  Chair, 
Sate  on  the  Stage  as  Judge,  find  fault,  who  dare  ? 
But  now  ('tis  hard)  that  things  should  alter  so, 
Poor  I  stand  here,  with  Posture  humbly  low  : 
To  beg  each  Tyrant  Critick,  not  to  be  my  Foe, 
In  my  own  Person  sue,  to  change  the  mood, 
Which  truly  I  should  blush  for,  if  I  could  : 
Yet  Parent  Thespis,  oft  harangu'd  the  Throng, 
And  to  Augustus,  tuneful  Ovid  sung  ; 
Nor  did  fam'd  Shakespear  Buskin'd  here,  his  noble 

Genius  wrong, 

In  honour  of  bright  Beauty  then  I  come, 
To  entertain  the  Fair,  now  thus  presume  ; 
Smile  you,  and  dart  an  influencing  Ray, 
I  shall  perform  as  once,  when  Young  and  Gay  : 
Oh  Heaven  !  that  Ray's  enough  to  fix  Renown, 
On  envious  Carpers.  now  I  dare  look  down; 
VOL.  i.  z  Y'have 


Poems  on  several  Occasions. 

Y'have  wrought  a  Miracle  upon  my  Tongue \ 

From  charming  Eyes,  first  Elocution  sprung : 

I,  that  through  Imperfection,  Fear,  or  Shame, 

Could  never  utter  to  Great  CHARLES  my  Name ; 

Oh  pow'r  of  Beauty  !  now  my  Soul  can  raise, 

To  speak  a  long  Oration,  in  your  Praise  : 

The  Play  too  will  I  hope,  meet  some  Esteem, 

One  thing  I'm  sure  of,  'tis  a  glorious  Theam ; 

A  Wife,  in  full  perfection  of  the  sort, 

It  reaches  the  bright  Zenith  of  the  Court : 

Puts  ye  in  mind  of  Sacred  Majesty, 

Who  wears  that  Title,  in  most  high  degree ; 

For  search  the  spacious  Globe,  there  will  be  seen, 

Never  a  better  Wife,  never  so  good  a  Queen  : 

You  Ladies  the  next  Prize  your  own  may  call, 

Since  with  her  Lustre  guilt,  you  glitter  all, 

Transfixt  in  that  bright  Sphere,  and  ne'er  to  fall ; 

So  when  the  dazling  Soveraign  of  the  Night, 

Decks  the  Horizon  with  her  glorious  Light : 

Th'  attending  Planets  round  her  brightly  burn, 

And  by  Example  glitter  in  their  turn 

So  much  that  part,  now  to  another  thing 

A  brace  of  Fops  too  here  I  nicely  bring 

One  has  a  Trick  to  Lisp,  and  one  to 

Full  of  themselves,  think  half  the  World  adore  'em, 

And  that  all  Womankind  must  fall  before  'em  ; 

When  simple  Creatures  the  good  Housewife  hear, 

Values  a  sneaking  look,  a  subtle  Tear, 

A  Feast  of  Oaths,  and  Vows,  cook'd  up  with  Art, 

With  a  neat  Dish  of  Lyes  for  a  Desert ; 

No  more  than  a  grand  Courtier,  high  in  Grace, 

A  Complimenting  Friend,  that  wants  a  Place  : 

Yet  must  dear  Self-conceit,  frail  Nature  share, 

How  many  frowzy  Pates,  Humps,  Scrubs,  alas  there 

are, 
Who  vainly  think  themselves  like  these,  the  Victors 

of  the  Fair. 

With  them  some  other  Comick  parts  you'll  view, 
Pleasant  I  think,  would  you  would  be  so  too ; 

'Tis 


ling,       ) 

mg, 
Sing:     j 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.         339 

Tis  then  on  generous  Favour  I  rely, 

And  since  the  Winter  of  my  time  draws  nigh  : 

That  can't  such  Fruits  and  Flowers  to  treat  ye  bring, 

As  us'd  to  deck  my  Summer,  and  my  Spring ; 

Accept  with  Candor  now  this  mean  repast, 

Add  one  Indulgence  more  to  Crown  the  rest, 

With  this  regard,  that  it  may  be  your  last. 


An  ORATION 

Address  d  to  the  KING,  the  PRINCE  and 
PRINCESS  :  And  on  the  glorious  Advan 
tage  of  UNION  and  AMITY,  Written  and 
spoken  by  me  on  the  Pub  lick  Theatre  in 
DRURY  LANE,  June  the  $d,  1714. 

WHEN  the  new  World,  all  Laws  divine  with- x 
stood,  \ 

And  Heaven  to  purge  it  of  that  Impious  brood,         > 
Showr'd  down  it's  Vengeance  in  th'  o'erwhelming  1 
Flood,  ' 

Submissive  Duty  in  the  few  were  spar'd, 
Whose  constant  Prayers  and  Vows  were  daily  heard ; 
Found  gracious  means  to  quel  Celestial  Rage, 
And  Time  and  Nature  form'd  a  Golden  Age  : 
Then  Bards  and  Prophets,  that  from  Heroes  sprung, 
A  Sacred  Genius  all  Inspiring  sung ; 
So  since  Indulgent  Heaven  has  once  again, 
Decreed  our  future  Blessings  to  maintain, 
In  a  long  Series  of  great  George's  Reign. 
Amongst  the  rest  that  sound  his  Praise  with  joy, 
Proud  that  I  can  so  well  my  Verse  employ, 
With  Loyal  grateful  duty  Charm'd  am  I : 

z    2  I 


34°         Poems  on  several  Occasions. 

I  that  my  comick  Prose  and  Lyrick  Rhime, 

Had  quite  resign'd  to  the  decays  of  Time  ; 

Now  prune  my  drooping  Wings  that  flagg'd  before, 

By  his  great  Theam  inspir'd,  aloft  I  soar. 

And  with  new  Vigour  court  the  Muse  once  more  : 

The  Muse  that  Sings,  how  Britain  in  distress, 

Has  in  her  Royal  Guardian  found  redress  j 

Sees  a  fam'd  Heroe,  in  her  awful  Lord, 

Ready  in  shining  Arms  to  weild  his  Sword, 

In  brave  defence  of  Right,  by  Providence  restor'd  : 

And  as  in  Fable,  when  the  Brutes  made  War, 
When  stubborn  Factions  with  Intestine  Jar ; 
Rashly  resolv'd  each  other  to  oppose,  \ 

Tumultuous  crowds  about  Succession  rose  : 
But  when  they  would  a  lawless  Heir  impose,      j 
The  Soveraign  Lion,  the  bold  Parties  aw'd, 
Controul'd  his  Foes  at  home,  and  those  abroad ; 
Proclaim'd  his  Right,  prov'd  his  vindictive  Power, 
And  made  the  growling  Herd,  all  tremble  at  his  Roar : 

The  Paralell  is  plain,  and  clear  the  Case, 
Nor  must  the  Muse  cease  here  her  noble  Chace 
This  hunt  of  Fame,  fix'd  in  the  Royal  Race. 
The  Prince  is  next,  and  by  Eternal  doom, 
Fated  for  Greatness  in  the  Years  to  come, 
Whose  florent  Spring,  now  bears  delightful  Bloom  : 
Upon  that  glorious  Subject  how  my  Song, 
Could  here  dilate,  but  oh !  my  trembling  Tongue, 
Desponding  faulters,  when  I  Thought  renew, 
And  still  a  brighter  Glory  in  the  Princess  view ; 
Oh  let  that  gracious  Planet !  whose  blest  Charms, 
Still  new  Creates  the  Subject  that  she  warms : 
Forgive  a  Reverence,  that  transports  so  far, 
To  call  her  Britain's  most  indulgent  Star  ; 
Sent  from  the  Pow'r  that  guards  our  grand  Affairs, 
That  no  more  Strifes  be  for  Pretending  Heirs : 
Let  her  be  ever  blest  who  doles  such  Joy, 
And  blasts  aspiring  Hopes  that  would  destroy ; 
Fill'd  with  Seraph ick  Love  does  timely  breed, 
And  bears  a  Race  of  Angels  to  succeed : 

Thus 


>    JLXU« 

>} 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.         341 

Thus  as  some  desart  Land,  whose  wild  distress, 
Seems  wanting  Providential  Care  to  bless  ; 
Where  the  coy  Sun  ne'er  darts  a  genial  Ray, 
But  cold  bleak  Frosts  blasts  each  returning  Day ; 
Prayers  of  some  fav'rite  Votaries  Shipwreck'd  there,  \ 
Having  with  pious  Toyl  exacted  heavenly  Care,        > 
And  chang'd  rough  Seasons  to  serene  and  fair.          j 
Great  Goddess  Nature  proves  her  kindly  force, 
Turns  to  proliffick  Heat  their  steril  Course ; 
Relieves  all  Wants  caus'd  by  Celestial  doom, 
Gives  Fruit  and  Grain. to  crown  the  Years  to  come, 
And   now    fresh   budds  and  plants  appear,    and 

princely  Roses  bloom. 

So  beauteous  Albion  wouldst  thou  happy  be, 
Happy  thy  Natives  all,  could  they'  agree ; 
But  baneful  Feuds  prevent  that  valued  Lot, 
And  hateful  Jarrs  about  the  Lord  knows  what : 
Right  and  Religion,  the  great  Cause  they  feign, 
Yet  tho'  that  specious  Maxim  some  maintain, 
There  is  a  sly  and  subtile  Devil  called  Gain ; 
That  oft  unstedfast  Nature  does  surprize, 
And  turns  to  mischievous  the  Grave  and  Wise  : 
Else  we're  all  guided  by  calm  Reason's  Rules, 
Tory  and  Whig  were  only  Terms  for  Fools. 

Oh  sacred  Union  !  could  thy  Charm  command, 
The  Erring  stubborn  Factions  of  the  Land ; 
We  need  not  shrink  for  fear  of  Foreign  harms, 
Or  value  Southern  Heats,  or  Northern  Storms  : 
But  arm'd  with  Amity,  Victorious  be, 
Securely  Proud,  we're  circl'd  round  with  Sea. 

And  now  methinks  I  see  the  Dove  appear, 
Soaring  with  Argent  Plumes,  to  settle  here  ; 
A  virdant  Olive  branch,  he  bears  t'express, 
The  Emblem  of  soft  Union,  Love  and  Peace  ; 
The  joyful  Natives  all  with  general  Joy, 
That  for  their  Country's  Aid,  their  Force  employ, 
Resolve  to  banish  Discord,  with  a  Vive  le  Roy. 


The 


342         Poems  on  several  Occasions. 

The  Singers  Defence ;  A  POEM. 

The  Author  answers  his  Friend,  who  blames 
him  for  not  Singing  when  desird:  He 
contradicts  the  Third  Satyr  of  HORACE, 
beginning  with  Omnibus  hoc  vitium  est 
Cantoribus,  &c.  He  defends  TIGELLIUS, 
and  proves  that  HORACE  had  no  actual 
Skill  in  F^/MUSICK. 

T  F  this  strange  Vice  in  all  good  Singers  were, 
I       As  the  admir'd  Horace  does  declare  ; 
That  if,  when  asKd*  the?  blest  with  Health  and  Ease, 
Their  choicest  Friends,  they  still  deny  to  Please : 
And  yet  unasked,  will  rudely  Sing  so  long, 
To  tire  each  Friend,  with  each  repeated  Song : 
I  strongly  then,  should  take  his  Satyr's  part, 
Lash  the  Performers,  and  despise  their  Art ; 
But  having  studied  long  enough  to  be 
A  small  Proficient  in  that  Faculty  : 
I  found,  when  I  that  rigid  Version  met, 
'Twas  more  from  Prejudice,  than  Judgment  writ ; 
And  Horace  was  in  his  Reproof  more  free, 
Because  Tigellius  was  his  Enemy  : 
Whose  frequent  Vices  caus'd  that  fierce  Assault, 
And  all  the  rest  are  lash'd  for  one  Man's  fault ; 

Satyr  should  never  take  from  Malice  Aid, 
For,  with  due  Reverence  to  Horace  paid  ; 
Who  rails  at  Faults,  through  Pers'nal  Prejudice, 
Shews  more  his  own,  than  shame  another's  Vice : 

Tigellius,  as  his  Character  is  plain, 
Was  of  a  Humour  most  absurd  and  vain, 
Fantastick  in  his  Garb,  unsettled  in  his  Brain 
And  if  (as  once  great  Casar  he  deny'd) 
When  ask'd  to  Sing,  'twere  the  effect  of  Pride  ; 

*  Horace's  own  Words. 

Lictors 


vice : 
dn  :  j 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.         343 

Lidors  and  Fasces  should  have  bluntly  taught 
The  Fool  to  know  th'  Obedience,  that  he  ought : 
But  if  Augustus,  his  Commands  did  lay, 
When  the  Genius  was  not  able  to  Obey  \ 
As  oft  with  Singers  it  will  happen  so. 
According  as  their  Joys  or  Troubles  grow  j 
'Twas  no  Offence  then  to  excuse  his  Art, 
The  Soul  untun'd,  makes  Discord  in  each  part : 
And  Monarchs  can  no  more  give  Vocal  Breath, 
Than  they  can  hinder  when  Fate  Summons  Death. 

A  Pleasure  lov'd  by  one,  is  lik'd  by  more, 
Suppose  Sir,  I  have  Sung  too  much  before  ; 
Made  my  self  Hoarse,  and  even  rack'd  my  Throat, 
To  please  some  Friend,  with  some  fine  Treble  Note  : 
Chance  does  me  then  to  you  and  others  bring, 
The  second  Compliment  is — Pray  Sir,  Sing ; 
I  swear  I  can't,  then  Angry  you  retort, 
All  you  good  Singers  are  so  hard  to  court : 
To  make  Excuse,  then  modestly  I  tell 
How  hoarse  I  am,  with  what  that  Day  befel ; 
Yet  all's  in  vain,  you  rail,  I'm  thought  a  Clown, 
And  ( Omnibus  hoc  vitium)  knocks  me  down : 

I  often  have,  (I  own)  to  Sing  deny'd, 
But  not  through  resty  Peevishness,  nor  Pride ; 
But  that  perhaps  I  had  been  tir'd  before, 
Weary,  or  111,  unable  to  Sing  more  : 
Or  that  some  Hour  of  Infelicity, 
Had  robb'd  my  Soul  of  usual  Harmony ; 
Yet  all's  the  same,  th'  old  Saw  is  still  repeated, 
You  Singers,  long  to  be  so  much  Intreated ; 
Tho'  at  that  time,  to  me  no  Joy  could  fall 
Greater,  than  not  to  have  been  ask'd  at  all ; 

Th'  Harmonious  Soul,  must  have  it's  humour  free, 
Consent  of  parts  still  crowns  the  Harmony  : 
We  read  the  Jewish  Captives  could  not  Sing, 
In  a  strange  Land  nil'd  by  a  Foreign  King ; 
Contentment,  the  melodious  Chord  controuls, 
And  Tunes  the  Diapazon  of  our  Souls  : 
What  makes  a  Cobler  chirp  a  pleasant  Part, 

At 


344         Poems  on  several  Occasions. 

At  his  hard  Labour,  but  a  merry  Heart  ; 

He  Sings  when  ask'd,  or  bluntly  else  denys, 

According  to  his  share  of  Grief  or  Joys  ; 

Thus  the  same  Accidents  to  us  befal, 

And  that  which  Tun'd  the  Cobler,  tunes  us  all : 

But  if  against  our  Will,  we  thrash  out  Songs, 

For  Singing  then,  is  thrashing  to  the  Lungs, 

The  blast  of  Airy  Praise  we  dearer  get, 

Than  Peasants  do  their  Bread  with  toyl  and  sweat : 

To  Sleep  at  your  command,  is  the  same  thing, 

As  when  being  Tir'd,  or  vex'd  in  Mind,  to  Sing  : 

And  tho'  Performance,  ne'er  so  easie  shew, 

As  it  has  Charms,  it  has  Vexations  too, 

And  the  Singer's  plague,  'tis  none  but  Singers  know. 

How  often  have  I  heard  th'  unskilful  say, 

Had  I  a  Voice,  by  Heaven  I'd  Sing  all  Day ; 

But  with  that  Genius,  had  he  been  Endow'd, 

And  were  to  Sing  when  ask'd,  or  be  thought  Proud 

When  weary,  vex'd,  or  111,  not  to  deny,          \ 

But  at  all  Seasons,  with  all  Friends  comply,  > 

He'd  then  blame  Horace,  full  as  much  as  I : ) 

Whose  want  of  Knowledge  in  the  Vocal  Art, 

Made  him  lash  all,  for  one  Man's  mean  desert ; 

For  had  he  the  Fatigue  of  Singers  known, 

And  judg'd  their  Inconvenience  by  his  own  ; 

Tigellius  only  had  Correction  met, 

And  Omnibus  hoc  vitium  ne'er  been  writ. 


Ver- 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.         345 

VERSES 

Made  in  Honour  of,  and  most  humbly  ad 
dress  d  to  her  Grace  the  DUTCH  ESS 
#/"  SOMERSET,  as  a  grateful  Acknow 
ledgment  of  the  Favour  she  did  me  to  Her 
Majesty. 

A   S  when  some  mighty  Monarch  born  to  sway, 
±\_     Ready  to  fix  his  Coronation  Day ; 
Renown'd  by  Fame  a  Diamond  has  got, 
Through  distant  Climes  with  Care  and  hazard  brought : 
Whilst  skilful  Artists  all  with  Wonder  gaze, 
Sets  it  in  his  Imperial  Crown  to  blaze  ; 
Which  on  the  Day  of  Pomp  he  means  to  wear, 
The  Greatest,  Noblest,  and  the  Brightest  there  : 
So  Madam,  shining  in  your  Lofty  place, 
Replete  with  dazling  Vertues  is  your  Grace ; 
So  gaind  our  Soveraign  ANN,  the  Jewel  rare, 
Which  having  purchas'd,  she  resolv'd  to  wear : 
And  in  her  Heart,  as  t'other  in  the  Crown, 
Inclose  a  Temper  found  so  like  her  own  ; 
Grooms  of  the  Stole,  my  Eyes  have  seen  before, 
But  blind  with  Wealth,  or  else  disguis'd  with  Pow'r  : 
Whose  Opticks  rais'd,  nought  but  the  Stars  could  see, 
Too  far  aspiring  to  look  down  on  me  ; 
But  you,  whose  Clemency  still  cleers  your  sight, 
Could  know  your  Suppliant,  even  in  shades  of  Night  : 
And  in  few  Hours  a  noble  Action  do, 
That  might  whole  Years  have  tir'd  me  to  pursue ; 
Sacred  Humility  the  Learn'd  confess, 
Beyond  all  Jems  in  a  great  Lay's  Dress  : 
Small  Merit  Self-opinion  still  does  guide, 
The  truly  Great,  are  ever  free  from  Pride ; 
This  last  your  Grace's  Character  is  known, 
Long  may  you  Live  then  to  exalt  Renown : 
From  loud  Applause,  to  reap  your  Yearly  due, 
You,  in  the  Gracious  Soveraign  blest,  the  Soveraign 
blest  in  you. 

Strat- 


346         Poems  on  several  Occasions. 


STRATFIELDSEA; 

Or  the  CANAAN  of  HAMPSHIRE,  a  POEM  : 
Humbly  addressd  to  the  highly  Honoured 
and  worthy  GEORGE  PITT,  Esq ;  and 
his  good  LADY. 

A   S  when  repentant  Israel  once  distrest, 
jT\_     Reliev'd  by  a  peculiar  Grace  from  Heaven, 
Was  far  beyond  the  Neighb'ring'  Nations  blest, 
When  Canaan  was  the  happy  Portion  given. 

Who  through  long  tedious  Years  of  toyl  and  care, 
Tho'  toyl  th'  effect  of  erring  Duty  was ; 

At  last,  by  Providence,  was  brought  to  share 
The  darling  Pleasures  of  that  Blessed  place. 

The  gay  enamell'd  Fields  were  gladly  seen, 
Where  plenteous  Crops  in  fruitful  Acres  grow ; 

And  lofty  Trees  were  flourishing  and  Green, 
Where  Fruit  abounds,  and  chrystal  Rivers  flow. 

So  when  the  Genius  of  the  British  Land, 
First  in  our  Hampshire  Interest  did  appear ; 

It  seem'd  as  Magisterial  to  Command, 

That  Stratfieldsea  should  be  the  Canaan  here. 

On  you,  most  worthy  Sir,  the  Lot  was  thrown, 
A  Guerdon  for  the  Vertuous  and  the  brave ; 

And  in  Felicity  still  equal  known, 

With  that  blest  Land  that  Milk  and  Honey  gave. 

Delicious  Seat  that  treats  the  wond'ring  Eye, 
With  all  that  Nature  for  Delight  can  give ; 

And  when  Art  therefore  would  new  Methods  try, 
Not  Worthy,  seems  nor  willing  to  receive. 

The  Park,  that  fam'd  Elizium  imitates, 

With  spacious  Arms  expanding  to  your  view  j 

As  Heir  to  th'  old  brisk  Fancy  here  creats, 
The  beautiful  resemblance  of  a  New. 

Here 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.         347 

Here  happy  herds  of  Dear  we  feasting  see, 
That  pass  in  joyful  Peace  succeeding  Days ; 

Emblems  of  Innocence  and  Amity, 
All  inwardly  their  great  Creator  praise. 

Their  Benefactor  too  that  comes  to  view, 
They  seem  to  bless  with  large  uplifted  Eyes ; 

No  turns  of  State,  or  War,  their  fears  renew, 

Nor  sting  of  Conscience  sprung  from  mortal  Vice. 

But  well  contented  with  what  each  enjoys, 
They  waste  the  Year  in  that  delightful  place ; 

And  now  let  the  Viator  turn  his  Eyes, 

And  varying  Pleasure,  on  the  Garden  gaze. 

Here  Nature's  Cornucopia  open  shews, 

Repleat  with  Flowers  and  Fruits,  for  use  of  Man, 
Here  too  a  chrystal  River  sweetly  flows, 

Just  so  through  Paradise  Euphrates  ran. 

The  wanton  Fish  their  choice  Delights  pursue, 
Themselves  affording  what  all  Sports  excel ; 

From  the  cleer  Stream  uprais'd  the  Dome  they  view, 
Where  second  Jacob  and  Rebecca  dwell. 

Forgive  me,  Madam,  if  my  grateful  Soul, 

In  worth  applauding  Rhimes,  is  here  exprest ; 

Or  tell  my  honour'd  Patron  'mongst  the  whole 
Of  his  excelling  Comforts,  you  are  best. 

Your  Soul,  where  Vertue  and  Discretion  joyn, 
Appearing  still  in  both  serenely  great, 

Thus  makes  in  him  the  Joys  of  Life  divine, 
And  gives  Perfection  to  the  Wedlock  state. 

The  beauteous  Offspring  too,  that  grace  your  Board, 
Like  charming  Cupids  in  a  painted  Heaven  ; 

Amongst  the  rest  Addition  large  affords, 
To  all  the  Blessings  plentifully  given. 

Oh 


348         Poems  on  several  Occasions. 

Oh  Happiness!  too  great  for  Verse  to  shew, 
And  only  in  the  joyful  Parents  breast ; 

Whose  innate  Comforts  do  from  Nature  flow, 
And  from  no  artful  Pen  can  be  exprest. 

Live  then  'till  Time  grow  old,  as  well  as  you, 
Whilst  choice  of  Happiness  each  Year  renews  ; 

And  whilst  I  Sing  in  tuneful  Verse  your  due, 
Accept  my  Duty,  and  forgive  my  Muse. 


A   PROLOGUE, 

For    the  first  Part  of  DON    QUIXOTE  : 
Spoken  by  Mr.  BETTERTON. 

IN  hopes  the  Coming  Scenes  your  Mirth  will  raise,  ] 
To  you,  the  Just  Pretenders  to  the  Bays, 
The  Poet  humbly  thus  a  Reverence  pays.  j 


And  you,  the  Contraries,  that  hate  the  Pains, 
Of  Labour'd  Sence,  or  of  Improving  Brains  : 
That  feel  the  Lashes  in  a  well-writ  Play, 
He  bids  perk  up  and  smile,  the  Satyr  sleeps  to  Day. 
Our  Sancho  bears  no  Rods  to  make  ye  smart, 
Proverbs,  and  merry  Jokes,  are  all  his  Part. 
The  Modish  Spark  may  Paint,  and  lie  in  Paste, 
Wear  a  huge  Steinkirk  twisted  to  his  Waste, 
And  not  see  here,  how  Foppish  he  is  Dress'd. 
The  Country  Captain,  that  to  Town  does  come, 
From  his  Militia  Troop,  and  Spouse  at  home, 
To  beat  a  London  Doxy's  Kettle-Drum  : 
One,  who  not  only  th'  whole  Pit  can  prove, 
That  she  for  Brass  Half-crown  has  barter  d  Love, 
But  the  Eighteen-penny  Whore-masters  above  : 
With  his  Broad  Gold  may  treat  his  Pliant  Dear, 
Without  being  shown  a  Bubbled  Coxcomb  here. 

Grave 


\ 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.         349 

Grave  Dons  of  Business  may  be  Butter's  Cullies,      \ 
And  Crop-ear'd  Prentices  set  up  for  Bullies, 
And  not  one  Horse-whip  Lash  here,  flog  their  Follies; ) 
Nay,  our  hot  Blades,  whose  Honour  was  so  small, 
They'd  not  bear  Arms,  because  not  CoFnels  all : 
That  wish  the  French  may  have  a  mighty  Slaughter, 

But  wish  it  safely On  this  side  o'th'  Water. 

Yet  when  the  King  returns,  are  all  prepar'd, 

To  beg  Commissions  in  the  Standing-Guard ; 

Even  these,  the  Sons  of  Shame  and  Cowardice, 

Will  'scape  us  now,  tho'  'tis  a  cursed  Vice. 

Our  Author  has  a  famous  Story  chose,  \ 

Whose  Comick  Theme  no  Person  does  expose, 

But  the  Knights- Errant ;  and  pray  where  are  those  ?  ) 

There  was  an  Age,  when  Knights  with  Launce  and 

Shield, 

Would  Right  a  Lady's  Honour  in  the  Field  : 
To  punish  Ravishers,  to  Death  would  run, 

But  those  Romantick  Days Alas,  are  gone, 

Some  of  our  Knights  now,  rather  would  make  one, 
Who  rinding  a  young  Virgin,  by  Disaster, 
Ty'd  to  a  Tree,  would  rather  tie  her  faster. 
Yet  these  must  'scape  too,  so  indeed  must  all,  } 
Court-Cuckold-makers  now  no  Jest  does  maul,  [- 
Nor  the  horn'd  Herd  within  yon  City  Wall.       j 
The  Orange- Miss,  that  here  Cajoles  the  Duke, 
May  sell  her  Rotten  Ware  without  rebuke. 
The  young  Coquet,  whose  Cheats  few  Fools  can  dive 

at, 

May  Trade,  and  th'  Old  Tope  Kniperkin  in  private ; 
The  Atheist  too,  on  Laws  Divine  may  Trample, 
And  the  Plump  Jolly  Priest  get  Drunk,  for  Church- 
Example. 


An 


35°         Poems  on  several  Occasions. 


An  EPILOGUE 

To  the  first  Part  of  DON  QUIXOTE.     By 
SANCHO,  Riding  upon  his  Ass. 

9  TV  /T  ONGST  our  Fore-fathers,  that  pure  Wit  profest, 
1. V  JL  There's  an  old  Proverb,  That  two  Heads  are  best. 
Dapple  and  I  have  therefore  jogg'd  this  way, 
Through  sheer  good  Nature,  to  defend  this  Play : 
Tho'  I've  no  Friends,  yet  he  (as  proof  may  shew) 
May  have  Relations  here  for  ought  I  know. 
For  in  a  Crowd,  where  various  Heads  are  addle, 
May  many  an  Ass  be,  that  ne'er  wore  a  Saddle. 
'Tis  then  for  him  that  I  this  Speech  intend, 
Because  I  know  he  is  the  Poet's  Friend  ; 
And,  as  'tis  said,  a  parlous  Ass  once  spoke, 
When  Crab-tree  Cudgel  did  his  Rage  provoke ; 
So  if  ye  are  not  civil,  'dsbud,  I  fear, 

He'll  speak  again 

And  tell  the  Ladies  every  Dapple  here. 

Take  good  Advice  then,  and  with  kindness  win  him, 

Tho'  he  looks  simply,  you  don't  know  what's  in  him  : 

He  has  shrewd  Parts,  and  proper  for  his  Place, 

And  yet  no  Plotter,  you  may  see  by's  Face ; 

He  tells  no  Lyes,  nor  does  Sedition  vent, 

Nor  ever  Brays  against  the  Government. 

Then  for  his  Garb  he's  like  the  Spanish  Nation, 

Still  the  old  Mode,  he  never  changes  Fashion ; 

His  sober  Carriage  too  you've  seen  to  Day, 

But  for's  Religion,  troth,  I  cannot  say 

Whether  for  Mason,  Burgis,  Muggleton, 

The  House  with  Steeple,  or  the  House  with  none  : 

I  rather  think  he's  of  your  Pagan  Crew, 

For  he  ne'er  goes  to  Church  no  more  than  you. 

Some  that  would,  by  his  Looks,  guess  his  Opinion, 

Say,  he's  a  Papish  ;  others,  a  Socinian, 

But  I  believe  him,  if  the  Truth  were  known, 

As  th'  rest  of  the  Town -Asses  are,  of  none ; 

But 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.         351 

But  for  some  other  Gifts  :  Mind  what"!  say, 

Never  compare,  each  Dapple  has  his  Day, 

Nor  anger  him,  but  kindly  use  this  Play  : 

For  should  you  with  him,  conceal'd  Parts  disclose, 

Lord  l^how  like  Ninnies  would  look  all  the  Beaus. 


A  PROLOGUE, 

To  the  Massacre  of  PARIS:  For  Mr. 
BETTERTON. 

BRAVE  is  that  Poet  that  dares  draw  his  Pen, 
To  expose  the  nauseous  Crimes  of  guilty  Men, 
As  once  did  our  Immortal  Patron,  Ben. 
And  Wise  are  they  that  can  with  Patience  bear,  \ 
And  just  Reflections  moderately  hear,  > 

Unmov'd  by  Passion,  as  unsway'd  by  Fear :         J 
These  we  present  a  Tragick  piece  to  Night, 
That  has  some  Years  been  banish'd  from  the  Light ; 
Hush'd  and  imprison'd  close,  as  in  the  Tower, 
Half  press'd  to  Death  by  a  dispensing  Power : 
Rome's  Friend,  no  doubt,  suppos'd  there  might  be 

shown, 

Just  such  an  Entertainment  of  their  own, 
The  Plot,  the  Protestants,  the  Stage,  the  Town : 
But  no  such  Fears  our  Hugenots  alarm'd, 
True  English  Hearts  are  always  better  Arm'd  ; 
For  if  the  Valiant  in  a  little  Town, 
Batter'd  and  starving  their  brave  Cause,  durst  own, 
And  now  to  take  a  Tryal  for  it's  fact, 
Is  just  come  out  by  th'  Habeas  Corpus  Act. 
If  Peasants  scorning  Death  can  guard  their  Walls, 
And  the  mild  Priesthood,  turn  to  Generals ;  .J 

Britains  look  up,  and  this  blest  Country  see,  ) 
In  spite  of  byass'd  Law  serene  and  free,  > 

Cleer'd  from  it's  choaking  Foggs  of  Popery.     ) 
No  Massacres  or  Revolutions  fear, 
Affairs  are  strangely  alter'd  in  one  Year : 

Lord 


352         Poems  on  several  Occasions. 

Lord  what  a  Hurry  was  there  here  one  Night, 

The  Irish  come,  they  Burn,  they're  now  in  sight ; 

A  city  Taylor  swore,  with  Fear  grown  Wild, 

He  saw  a  huge  Tall  Teague  devour  a  Child ; 

We  have  no  Nuncio  in  our  Councils  now, 

Nor  pamper'd  Jesuites  with  our  Heifers  Plough  : 

Infallibility  himself  does  run, 

The  Garden's  Weeded,  and  the  Moles  are  gone ; 

The  barbarous  French  too  that  Thuanus  quotes, 

Of  old  so  diligent  in  cutting  Throats  : 

Which  as  Example  to  Posterity, 

To  Night  you'll  here  this  dreadful  Mirrour  see, 

Must  be  remember'd  in  their  Progeny  : 

A  spurious  Race  now  on  our  Seas  are  steering, 

And  beat  us  by  the  way  of  Buccaneering ; 

Not  Gold  to  Lawyers,  to  th'  Ambitious  Power, 

Not  lusty  Switzer  to  a  lustful  Whore  : 

To  Gamesters  Luck,  to  Beauty  length  of  Days, 

Nor  to  a  wrincled  wither'd  Widow  Praise ; 

Could  give  such  Joy  as  to  our  Country-men, 

To  see  great  Orange  seize  his  own  again  : 

This  glorious  Chace,  no  doubt,  you'll  all  pursue, 

Mean  while  our  Author  begs  a  Favour  too  ; 

You  that  his  Merit  and  Distress  have  known, 

To  guard  him  from  the  Criticks  of  the  Town  : 

That  this  will  be  the  Poet's  Prophecy, 

The  Poets  all  were  Voters  formerly  ; 

To  in  courage  then  give  ours  to  Night  his  due, 

His  Tale  is  somewhat  Bloody,  but  'tis  true, 

A  moral  Truth  shown  to  an  honest  End, 

And  can  the  Good  or  Wise  of  neither  Sect  offend : 

Fancy  and  Stile  far  as  the  rest  excel,  \ 

In  our  deliverance  Year  let  no  Tongue  tell,        / 

Poets  the  only  Curst,  on  whom  no  Manna  fell.  ) 

Plead  therefore  that  they  may  by  Casar's  influence 

breath, 

And  mix  a  Lawrel  with  his  Oaken  Wreath ; 
So  shall  his  Glory  flourish  to  the  height, 
Then  every  Pen  in  leaves  of  Brass  shall  write  : 

This 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.         353 

This,  this  was  he,  that  blest  by  sacred  Power,  \ 
To  England  its  Religion  did  Restore,  > 

So  firm,  that  Rome  could  never  hurt  it  more.    J 


An  EPILOGUE. 

For  CRAB  and  GILLIAN  :    In  one  of  my 
Comedies. 

~    7     /r~"AOme  Spouse,  to  talk  in  Mode  now  like 
Lrao.     -. 

V^,     the  Great, 

We'll  pack  up  Stuff,  and  home  to  our  Estate : 

But  First,  before  we  come  to  Taunton  Steeple, 

Prithee  let's  have  one  word,  with  these  good  People  ; 

Thou  know'st  we've  promis'd  to  befriend  the  Play, 

Gill.  Well,  what  of  that,  what  would  you  have  me  say  ? 

Crab.  Why?  set  thy  Face,  and  thy  best  Curchy  make,  ) 

And  then  desire  the  Wits  here  for  thy  sake, 

To  spare  the  Poet,  that  his  Whim  may  take.  ) 

Gill.  Who  I,  Lord,  Lord,  d'ye  think  they'll  do't  for  me, 

No,  no,  dan't  think  zo  Man, 

Crab.  Why  not  for  thee  ?  thou  art  a  Woman  ; 

Thou'rt  of  a  Kind,  that  ne'er  can  fail  to  Please, 

Gill.  No  zure,  I  am  not  vine  enough  for  these  : 

My  Vace  is  tann'd,  and  I've  no  White  nor  Red, 

Nor  e'er  a  ruffled  Cap  upon  my  Head  ; 

I'm  a  loyn  of  Mutton  plainly  dress'd, 

And  these  nice  volk,  love  all  their  Mutton  lac'd. 

Besides  yon  Gentlewomen*  that  sit  by,  j 

That  gave  their  twanking  Cuffs  on  to,  to  vly,       > 

Can  do  the  Business  better  much  than  I.  ) 

Let  them  speak  first, 

Crab.  Odrabit  it,  they  Pay, 

And  all  are  Benefactors  to  the  Play  : 

*  Pointing  to  some  at  the  Play. 

VOL.  I.  A   A  NO, 


354         Poems  on  several  Occasions. 

No,  we  must  do't,  come,  here's  my  Cap  off  taken, 
Gill.  My  Curchy  then  as  well  as  che  can  make  one  ; 
Crab.  Be  pleas'd  good  Sirs  to  praise  what  makes  ye 

laugh  ? 

Gill.  And  chear  the  Poet  with  a  Smile  and  half 
Crab.   Crab  then  at  Home  with  Stout  shall  make  ye 

merry, 

Gill.  And  Gillian  bid  ye  welcome  to  her  Dairy  ; 
Crab.  I'll  grubble  all  my  Jokes  up  to  Delight  ye, 
Gill.  And  I'll  divert  ye  with  my  Hoyty  toyty  ; 
With  Fortune's  choicest  Blessings  may  regale  ye, 
And  Wealth,  and  Wine,  and  Women,  never  fail  ye. 


A  PROLOGUE. 
To  my  Play,  the  French  COQUET. 

AS  in  Intrigues  of  Love  we  find  it  true, 
Stale  Faces  pall,  whilst  we  are  charm'd  with  new 
Our  Poet  thinking  tho'  some  in  Wit  prevails,  j 

Fearing  to  tire  ye  with  more  English  Tales, 
Has  laid  his  Scene  in  the  French  Court  Versailes  :    j 
Thus  chang'd  your  Diet  for  Variety, 
From  Cheese  and  Butter  of  our  dull  degree, 
To  fragrant  Angelote,  and  cher  fromage  de  Brie: 
He  doubts  not,  many  that  sit  here  to  Day, 
That  have  observ'd  the  Title  to  his  Play, 
Suppose  it  for  some  Politick  Essay. 
'Gainst  that  he  says  a  Proverb  gives  him  Rules, 
'Tis  never  safe  to  meddle  with  edg'd  Tools  ; 
For  Railery,  a  Comick  Theam  is  best, 
War's  but  a  Dull  Occasion  for  a  Jest  : 
And  as  in  Cudgel  Play,  there  comes  no  Joke, 
From  either  Party  when  both  Heads  are  broke  ; 
But  then  perhaps  it  may  expected  be,  \ 

That  he  should  fall  upon  French  Foppery  ; 
'Tis  true,  they  have  Fools,  egad,  and  so  have  we.  J 

In 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.         355 

In  Apish  Modes  they  naturally  shine,  \ 

Which  we  Ape  after  them  to  make  us  fine,     > 

The  late  Blue  Feather  was  charmant  divine  ;  I 

Next  then  the  slouching  Sledo,  and  our  huge  Button, 

And  now  our  Coats,  flanck  broad,  like  Shoulder  Mutton : 

Fac'd  with  fine  Colours,  Scarlet,  Green  and  Sky, 

With  Sleeves  so  large,  they'll  give  us  Wings  to  Fly ; 

Next  Year  I  hope  they'll  cover  Nails  and  all, 

And  every  Button  like  a  Tennis-Ball : 

Nor  on  their  Industry  can  he  here  reflect, 

Cause,  to  our  own  there  must  be  some  respect, 

Our  Ills  come  by  Misfortune,  not  Neglect ; 

And  that  they  outwit  us,  we  will  ne'er  agree, 

Tho'  they  have  damn'd  Luck  with  our  Ships  at  Sea : 

How  shall  the  Satyr  then  his  Venom  shed, 

Their  Heads  are  full  of  Air,  and  ours  are  full  of  Lead ; 

Their  hot  Brains  make  'em  swear  in  Elds  somes, 

We  in  dull  Gamut  roar  out  Blood  and  Worms  : 

They  to  grow  cool,  from  Herbs  still  seek  Relief, 

We  to  grow  Hot,  deboash  our  selves  in  Beef ; 

And  for  the  Bone,  when  we  to  Battle  run, 

Priests  of  both  kinds  ne'er  fail  to  Hiss  us  on  ; 

To  Trim  the  Matter,  and  use  a  Mean, 

Our  cautious  Author  in  each  coming  Scene, 

Resolv'd  to  baulk  both  sides,  has  us'd  to  Day, 

No  Plot,  but  Love  Intrigues  quite  through  his  Play, 

Yet  that  'tis  Good,  I  dare  be  bold  to  say : 

The  Jacks  are  fierce,  and  Williamites  are  flesh'd, 

The  Poets  not  so  bold,  but  may  be  dash'd, 

Wit  has  no  Armour  proof,  'gainst  being  thrash'd  ; 

Therefore  in  Terror  of  the  Warriours  Trade, 

Suspends  all  Satyr  'till  the  Peace  me  made. 


An 


356         Poems  on  several  Occasions. 


An  EPILOGUE. 

AMONGST  all  Characters  nearest  Divine, 
You  that  are  Witty-men,  should  cry  up  mine ; 
And  of  all  Bargains  that  are  daily  driven, 
Ours  is  the  most  ingaging  under  Heaven : 
Whose  Souls  in  a  Seraphick  station  move, 
As  all  must  do  who  Marry,  Love  for  Love. 
Sir  Sampson  here,  a  strange  Old  sordid  Sot,  \ 

Meaning  by  Candle  Inch  to  buy  my  Lot, 
Would  settle  on  me,  Oh  !  the  Lord  knows  what ;  ) 
He  for  a  Purchase  the  old  way  takes  Care, 
And  like  a  Higler  in  a  Country  Fair 
Bawls  out  aloud,  take  Money  for  your  Mare : 
Or  Brother  like  Stockjobbing  cheat  would  make, 
My  Friend  so  much  you  give,  so  much  you  take ; 
But  Valentine,  whose  Person,  Wit  and  Art, 
Pleads  fairer  Title  to  a  tender  Heart ; 
With  an  endearing  Claim,  fine  Words  address, 
A  Graceful  Person,  and  a  taking  Face  : 
A  solid  Judgment  that  can  stand  the  test, 

Trick  humour  gay 1  fancy'd  all  the  rest ; 

Compell'd  my  Love — The  Passion  strong  did  grow,  \ 
Whither  all  this,  a  Woman's  Heart  should  bow, 
Your  Pardon  Ladies,  I  am  sure  you  know :  ) 

Besides  by  Subtilty  I  Tryal  made, 
Found  out  his  Haunts,  and  Snares  each  way  I  laid ; 

Mark'd,  tho'  the  frolick  Widows City  Dames, 

Inmates  of  Leicester-field^  Pall-Mall,  St.  James : 

The  Tall,  the  Short,  the  Freckl'd— Fair  and  Brown, 

The  straight-lac'd  Maiden,  and  the  Miss  o'th'  Town  ; 

We're  sure  to  work  on  in  Adversity, 

Yet  still  what  Stock  he  had  was  kept  for  me  : 

And  for  such  Love,  if  we  should  Love  alow, 

Your  Pardon  Ladies,  I  am  sure  you  know ; 

I  took  Compassion  on  the  Bankrupt  Debtor, 

He  had  no  Money,  But  had  something  better : 

Faith  like  a  generous  Girl,  I  paid  his  worth, 

,For  I  had  Honour  in  me  from  my  Birth  • 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.          357 

I  paid  him  well A  Wife  that's  Fair  and  Young, 

Discreet  and  Kind,  and  Forty  Thousand  strong: 

Is  no  bad  Consolation  sure In  Life. 

How  would  some  snigger  here,  for  such  a  Wife  ; 
Then  if  this  part  I  Play  be  rare  or  no  ? 

Your  Pardon  Gentlemen You  likewise  know : 

The  Author  of  the  Scenes  appear  to  Day, 

Draws  every  Figure  justly  through  his  Play ; 

Mind,  Sence  and  generous  Humour,  seems  to  hit,    \ 

Let  Beauty  grant  him  then  superior  Wit, 

Since  by  the  Boxes  it  was  chose  and  Writ.  j 

VERSES  Congratulatory 
To  the  Honourable  William  BROMLEY,  Esq. 

A   S  when  Hiperion  with  Victorious  Light, 
jrY.  Expels  invading  Powers  of  gloomy  Night ; 
And  vernal  Nature  youthful  drest  and  gay, 
Salutes  the  Conqueror  that  forms  the  Day : 
The  mounting  Lark  exalts  her  joyful  Note, 
And  strains  with  Harmony  her  warbling  Throat ; 
So  now  my  Muse  that  hopes  to  see  the  Day, 
When  clowdy  Faction  that  does  Britain  sway, 
Shall  be  o'ercome  by  Reasons  peircing  Ray  : 
Applauding  Senates  for  their  prudent  choice, 
The  Will  of  Heaven,  by  the  Peoples  Voice ; 
First  greets  ye  Sir,  then  gladly  does  prepare, 
In  tuneful  Verse,  your  welcome  to  the  Chair. 
Awful  th'  Assembly  is,  August  the  Queen, 
In  whose  each  Day  of  Life,  are  Wonders  seen ; 
The  Nation  too,  this  greatest  of  all  Years, 
Who  watch  to  see  blest  turns  in  their  Affairs  : 
Slighting  the  Hydra  on  the  Gallick  shore, 
Hope  from  the  Senate  much,  but  from  you  more  ; 
Whose  happy  Temper  Judgment  cultivates, 
And  forms  so  fit  to  Aid  our  three  Estates. 

The 


358         Poems  on  several  Occasions. 

The  change  of  Ministry  late  order'd  here, 
Was  fated  sure  for  this  Auspicious  Year ; 
That  you  Predestin'd  at  a  glorious  hour, 
To  be  chief  Judge  of  Legislative  Power  : 
Might  by  your  Skill  that  Royal  right  asserts, 
Like  Heaven  reconcile  the  Jarring  parts ; 
Nor  shines  your  Influence  Sir,  here  alone, 
The  Church  must  your  unequal'd  Prudence  own, 
Firm  to  support  the  Cause,  but  rough  to  none  : 
Eusebids  Sons  in  Law  divine  profest, 
May  learn  from  you,  how  Truth  should  be  exprest ; 
Whither  in  Modest  Terms,  like  Balm,  to  heal, 
Or  raving  Notions  falsly  counted  Zeal. 
Oh  sacred  Gift  in  vulgar  matters  great, 
But  in  Religious  Tracts  divinely  sweet ; 
Which  ancient  Bagington  can  witness  well, 
And  the  rich  Library  before  it  fell : 
Your  Rural  Hours  amongst  wise  Authors  past, 
Your  Soul  with  their  unvalued  Wealth  possest ; 
And  well  may  he  to  heights  of  Knowledge  come, 
Who' learning  Pantheon,  always  kept  at  home  : 
Thus  once  Sir  you  were  blest,  and  sure  the  Fiend, 
That  first  Intail'd  a  Curse  on  humankind ; 
A  second  Time  a  dire  unequall'd  Cross, 
Design'd  the  Publick,  by  your  private  loss  : 
Oh  who  had  seen'  that  love  to  learning  bore, 
The  Matchless  Authors  of  the  Days  of  Yore, 
The  Fathers,  Prelates,  Poets,  Books  where  Arts 
Renown'd,  Explain'd  the  Men  of  rarest  Parts  : 
Shrink'd  up  their  shrivell'd  Bindings,  scorch  their  Names, 
And  yield  Immortal  worth  to  Temporary  Flames  : 
That  would  not  Sigh  to  see  the  Ruins  there, 
Or  wish  to  quench  them  with  a  falling  Tear : 

But  as  in  Story  where  we  Wonders  view, 
As  there  were  Flames,  there  was  a  Phaenix  too  ; 
An  Excellence  from  the  burnt  Pile  did  rise, 
That  still  atton'd  for  past  Calamities  : 
So  my  Prophetick  Genius — In  its  height, 
Viewing  your  Merit,  Sir,  foretels  your  Fate ; 

Your 


Poems  on  several  Occasions.         359 

Your  valiant  Ancestor  that  bravely  fought,  \ 

And  from  the  Foe,  the  Royal  Standard  got, 
Which  nobly  now  Adorns,  your  houshould  Coat :  j 
Denotes  the  Ancient  Grandeur  of  you  Race, 
As  present  Worth,  fits  you  for  present  Grace. 
The  Soveraign  must  Esteem,  what  all  admire,  ) 
Bromley  shall  rise,  and  Bagington  aspire. 
Fate  oft  contrives  Magnificence  by  Fire. 


To  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Bedford. 

VERSES  Congratulatory,  on  the  Birth  of 
his  Son  the  Marquess  of  TAVISTOKE. 

IN  sweet  Retirement,  freed  from  anxious  Care, 
From  Court  Delusions  and  the  noisy  War ; 
From  business  that  disturb  the  tranquil  State, 
And  palls  the  best  Contentment  of  the  Great : 
From  Town  Disorders,  and  infectious  Wine, 
From  Libertines  who  live  by  base  Design ; 
Wisely  your  Grace,  and  worthy  of  best  Praise, 
Has  chose  to  Consecrate  your  happy  Days  : 
Oh  lucky  change,  a  Blessing  only  due, 
By  Heavens  peculiar  bounty,  to  a  Few. 

Here  in  Ambrosial  Bowers  you  entertain, 
With  varied  Joys,  the  Body,  and  the  Brain ; 
Sweet  Contemplation  gains  the  foremost  place 
Whilst  Books  Instructively  do  Science  raise  : 
Sports  too,  for  Relaxation  of  the  Mind, 
The  Seasons  fit,  are  proper  in  their  kind ; 
Nor  is  the  Blessing  only  on  your  part, 
But  shar'd  by  her,  that  wholly  shares  your  Heart : 
Your  vertuous  Consort  of  Elizium  Dreams, 
Here,  Pregnant  with  Conubial  love,  she  Teems ; 
And,  that  Concording  Comfort  may  not  fail, 
T'inlarge  your  noble  Race,  brings  forth  a  Male  : 

Thus 


360         Poems  on  several  Occasions. 

Thus  has  Eternal  Providence  decreed, 

To  grant  the  only  Blessing  you  could  need. 

Take  it  my  Lord,  as  'tis  divinely  meant, 
A  Gift  peculiar  from  Heaven  sent ; 
A  Sanction  to  promote  your  Happiness, 
And  crown  your  Solitude  with  lasting  Bliss  : 
To  please  a  Parent,  Plants  may  kindly  shoot, 
But  Children  are  the  Quintiscential  Fruit ; 
The  charming  Prattle,  and  the  Tales  they  tell, 
By  Nature  taught,  all  Musick  far  excel. 

May  then,  th'  Illustrious  Babe  with  speedy  growth. 
Stretch  out  his  Infancy,  and  hast  to  Youth ; 
From  Youth  to  Manhood,  may  his  Years  improve,  ] 
Blest  with  a  Father's  Joy,  a  Mother's  Love, 
And  sacred  Gifts  descending  from  above.  J 

Th'  Eternal  in  your  Favour  does  bestow, 
A  Comfort  glittering  Courts,  but  seldom  know ; 
A  quiet  Life,  from  Proud  Ambition  free, 
An  Heir  too,  to  support  your  Family : 
Sent  to  Exalt,  and  make  your  Pleasures  great, 
In  the  calm  Halcyon  Days  of  your  retreat. 

So  in  the  Roman  State,  when  Civil  War, 
Harrass'd  the  Natives,  by  Intestine  Jarr ; 
When  rage  in  Triumph  rode  through  every  Street, 
And  he  whose  Arm  was  strongest,  had  most  Wit : 
The  noble  *  Atticus  in  Rural  Bowers, 
Past  with  selected  Friends,  and  Books,  his  Hours  \ 
Sometimes  his  beauteous  Spouse  too,  would  improve, 
The  Day,  with  Tales  of  Constancy  and  Love  : 
But  yet  no  Males  could  bring,  'till  Juno  prone ' 
To  pity,  summ'd  at  last  all  Joys  in  one, 
Heard  her  devoted  Prayers, 

And  blest  her  with  a  Son. 


*  Pomponius  Atticus. 

FINIS. 


D'Urfey,   Thomas 
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